


if life was a trophy, dad's trophy cabinet must be collecting dust

by Candycane_101



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, And Then Some, And act like a family, Crossover, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Family Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marvel Universe, Minor Character Death, No Incest, Or do we?, Original Character(s), Post-Season/Series 02, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Sibling Bonding, The Hargreeves open a Bakery, They also get their shit together, They develop their comic book powers, Time Travel, no beta we die like ben
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:28:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26725156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candycane_101/pseuds/Candycane_101
Summary: It wasn't like they knew that it was going to happen. The briefcase looked fine, Herb was confident that it would work, and Five seemed inclined to believe him, so they'd huddled together and set their course for home. But, maybe using a briefcase that had just been stuck in a supernatural energy wave wasn't their smartest idea.Then again, it isn't the weirdest thing to happen to them. At least in this universe-- dimension, reality?-- there were other superheroes left having to save the world. Which meant all they had to do was figure out how to get home. Simple enough, right?or, the briefcase sends the Hargreeves into the 2015 Marvel Universe because things can't ever go their way. Post Season 02.
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves & Everyone, Diego Hargreeves & Everyone, Diego Hargreeves/Lila Pitts, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Klaus Hargreeves & Everyone, Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz, Luther Hargreeves & Everyone, Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy) & Everyone, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, The Hargreeves Family, Vanya Hargreeves & Everyone, Vanya Hargreeves/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 57
Kudos: 272





	1. why are my shoulders stiff?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the musings of an exhausted Klaus Hargreeves on his siblings, their luck, and the anxiety of the days following their jump through reality and the coming days after.
> 
> or, a prologue that makes no sense because nothing in the Hargreeve's family's lives makes sense

“Fuck, it’s cold.”

“Yeah, that’s how it gets in the snow, dude.”

“Big talk from the guy wearing a hoodie.”

“Does it look like I’m a fucking radiator?”

_“Diego, maybe this isn’t such a good idea--”_

“C’mon man, you know I don’t have much in me to be burning right now.”

“Yeah, _sure_. Y'know, not all of us are blessed with ungodly amounts of monkey fur to keep us warm.”

“ _Hey_! Seriously man fuck off,”

“Make me you--”

“ _Enough_!” Diego and Luther pause, faces flushed red, equally as riled up and just as exhausted. Diego’s jaw is tight and Luther’s face crumbles ever so slightly, his hand forming a fist by his side and his eyes wide and sad. Diego looks like he wants to say something for a moment, maybe an apology or maybe another insult, but his jaw can’t get the words past his lips.

Vanya, Allison, and Klaus slow down.

Huddled together below two small umbrellas, they look back towards their brothers, both Diego and Luther tense and quiet as they look at Five, body stiff and jaw locked, and Klaus can’t really help the small chuckle he lets out, low and airy and lost in the wind. And he doesn’t mean to, not really. But the situation is ridiculous enough as is and it is fucking hilarious that this was the only familiar sight he’s seen in twenty miles.

They were cold, none of them dressed well enough for a chilly day-- let alone what amounted to the early stages of a blizzard-- huddled underneath broken umbrellas, _ha_ , and, in Luther and Diego's cases, Klaus’s hat and a hoodie. Luther, having the warmer body-- _“Shit, you run like a furnace, dude, seriously?"_ \-- was stuck with the hat. Rimmed with snow as it was, every time he huffed and a cloud of pent up frustration billowed from his mouth, a small bit of snow fell on his face, melting on his nose. Klaus thought it was funny for a while at first, up until Luther started to complain softly about his nose being numb. Diego, wearing what must’ve been at one point a child’s hoodie on his head and over his shoulders, was doing considerably worse. He was swaying with every other step, his words slurring occasionally, and his hair was sticking to what little they could see of his head from the snow and the blood that must’ve still been around his wound. Diego was determined not to lean on anyone else, deciding that marching with what was, probably, a hair away from a fractured skull was a walk in the, metaphorically, snow-laden park.

“You guys can barely hold yourselves up as is, I’m fine.” He’d said, with all the confidence that Klaus had had when he’d determinedly proclaimed that he could take Diego down in a fist fight when they were ten. He absolutely did _not_ get clobbered, Diego, _thank you very much._ But, point still standing-- Diego was full of shit.

No one believed him, obviously. They’d seen him when he’d woken up, barely coherent enough to remember his name, let alone stand on his own. And while he’s gotten better, considering it's been a week, he still wasn’t all there most of the time, his eyes glazed and his mouth mumbling one thing or another. Allison had looked like she was ready to tear off the hem of her shirt to wrap around his face, eyeing the blossoming bruise on his jaw that looked terribly similar to Klaus’s own when he was thirteen and had eaten a face full of stairs. But, she-- _they_ \-- saw the look of defeat and failure on his face, guilty for something he couldn’t have caused-- _Five couldn’t meet him in the eyes, probably blaming himself equally as much_ \-- and decided not to challenge him.

Five had insisted, though, that they at least fastened the hoodie on his head with one of the sleeves they’d torn from it to put some effort into staunching any of the bleeding that remained. Diego conceded to Allison’s shaking hands and Five’s firmer grip, but barely so, only long enough to get the tie around his head, sitting on a slippery rock below one of the larger trees they’d come across, before standing up and falling back to the edge of their little group. They’d all shared a look because-- _there was no way in hell he was hanging back there on his own._

Luther had taken the unspoken position by his side, either fueled by his innate need to protect his siblings or because he also was feeling guilty about something he most definitely did not do, lest Diego need any support beyond the occasional joke to lift his mood. The jokes didn’t work much at all, but Luther gave it his all, and Allison and Vanya shot him occasional smiles and thumbs up to keep his mood up. Five, decidedly, did not comment on the noise.

The others would have contributed, sans Five, probably, but they really weren’t faring any better. Out of all of them, Luther seemed to be handling himself the best physically.

Vanya hadn’t stopped coughing since she’d started a few hours ago, her nose red and her pale skin impossibly whiter. Every once in a while her body shook, sometimes so hard Klaus would worry she was convulsing from a seizure. Allison’s face was stiff and her throat, still aching from Lila’s lovely little mirror stunt--” _The Mirror! Wouldn't that be a nice little superhero name?” “Klaus--” “She could be number 8! Y’know really go the extra mile to hammer in the traumatic experience of being one of us!” "Klaus, dude no.“_ \-- was beginning to close up again and her voice only came up above a soft whisper. She couldn’t support herself well, her left leg taking enough of a hit to where she needed someone to keep her upright most of the time.

They both reminded Klaus far too much of their final days in their original timeline, Vanya’s eyes in his own while the world bled to white and Allison’s airy gasps as she laid on the ground of that cabin, surrounded by her blood and a broken string.

And Christ, he was fucked up for thinking this, but he was _missing_ that fucking mess of a timeline,

He _really_ missed it, would probably give his favorite flask-- the one he’d won from Jimmy in ‘Nam playing poker the day before he lost his guts to a Winchester 12-- to get back there. Because-- _yeah_ , he may have been sleeping in alleyways or the occasional douchebag’s bed, sucking dick for a buck and getting beat up for it too. And he may have been drugged so high up that the Eiffel Tower could’ve taken off and flown to the moon and it still wouldn’t have reached him. And maybe all his siblings hated him, or ignored him well enough, back then. And maybe their dad was still an ever eccentric glorified bastard in a monkey suit and monocle that stalked their every living movement. And maybe that world and timeline may actually be totally gone now, burned up in the apocalypse or erased from existence completely-- _Five couldn’t tell them what it meant for their original timeline that they weren’t anywhere near it, and it was eating him up_ \-- or whatever else.

But, at least there, they wouldn’t have been cold. And they wouldn’t have been lost. Allison would still have been able to hold her daughter. Vanya would’ve been warm in her bed the night before her first-- _second, he reminded himself sharply_ \-- big recital as First Chair and Diego would’ve been roaming the streets to his heart's content like the discount bdsm Batman he was. Luther wouldn't have had his heart broken, remaining blissfully unaware of their father’s overwhelming douchebaggery. Five could have enjoyed a cup of coffee while happily looking down upon all of them like the snot-nosed brat, that deserved a fucking break, that he was.

And, sure, Klaus may have been chasing another high or the coat-tail of a fist fight, but Ben would’ve been there. And Klaus may have actually-- _would have actually_ \-- listened to him for once. And maybe shit wouldn’t have been tits up. Everything would’ve made perfect sense. Fucked up, depressingly dreary, extraordinarily perfect, sense.

Klaus’s breath came out in a puff, his eyes stinging from the cold. His chest was covered only by Allison’s shawl and his thin vest and it was beginning to rattle. Speaking hurt, so did breathing. So he’s delegated himself either to hums or sticking his tongue out as his general responses to everything.

He hugged the shawl a little closer to his chest, his jacket on Vanya, her own having been torn up and left in the forest they’d woken up in. Diego’s jacket was on Allison, his slowly dying bravado still just large enough to give up the small amount of warmth it would’ve given him.

And really, wasn’t it something entirely else that Klaus was the only one who seemed to be holding himself together? Not physically, or emotionally-- _God no, not emotionally_ \-- but he had his wits about him. Something that came as much of a shock to the general public which, honestly, _what did they take him for, really?_ He would’ve been offended if it were quite literally any other situation. Much to the peanut gallery’s luck, though, he’d had just enough energy to scoff and roll his eyes before leaning a bit more into Allison to smother a bout of fatigue.

Diego and Luther were on a short fuse-- _”It’s alright big guy, he just doesn’t appreciate your comedic talents like we do.”_ \-- still new to their little budding friendship and still cradling cuts, bruises, and, in Diego’s case, the tail-end of a concussion. Five’s body was painfully stiff for most of the trek, even though he’d hit his back pretty hard when they’d landed. His eyes were far away for most of the time, though, that he wasn’t spending looking at the scribbled numbers he’d written on the back of the small map (that they’d finally found at a gas station four miles back). It was tucked between the handle of the broken briefcase, hanging limply in his free hand, and the hilt of one of Diego’s knives.

Allison and Vanya were getting ridiculously sick, both of them needing to lean on one other and Klaus, as their bodies slowly began to give into the exhaustion they all must’ve felt by now. Klaus wasn’t nearly as sick, his body being all too familiar with the cold for most of his life. Nor was he particularly hurt, save the occasional headache, chest ache, and dizzy spell. And, sure, sometimes he tripped on a body that wasn’t actually there or turned to thin air to complain about something or the other, finding nothing there to reply, but, he was _fine_. And fine was more than enough qualification to take up the position as pseudo-survival-leader until they found someplace stable, much to Luther and Five’s chagrin.

They’d _had_ to admit, though, that he did have the most experience surviving in generally less than hospitable environments.

_“The apocalypse and New Jersey are two very different kinds of hell, Five.”_

He was good at getting information from people who weren’t so readily persuaded by Luther’s body, Diego’s knives, or Five’s innocently childish, albeit sharp, smile. It had been decided unanimously, after Allison had nearly sent herself into a coughing fit trying to rumor someone, that she would be sitting out in the persuasion department for the time being. Klaus also had the most experience living on the streets, a fact that everyone tried really hard not to actively acknowledge but consciously kept in mind, so as to inadvertently make the general atmosphere only slightly more awkward than it had to be, much to his displeasure.

He found them food, though, and they were content enough with that to keep the topic on the back burner. Even if it was from a trash bin or swept from a bodega, it was enough to get them going another night. Luther usually got an extra ration from either Allison or Five, given that his body burned through most food fairly quickly, but that barely kept him going before he was hungry again. He was good at hiding it, but they knew well enough that he was probably getting weaker. Which meant he’d be getting colder quicker-- and they barely had anything left to keep themselves, let alone Luther, warm.

So, Klaus swept them clothes whenever he found a lost and found bin or a relatively packed shop with just enough overworked minimum wage employees that he could slip by. The lovely pink number wrapped around Diego being his latest grab from the small shop by the gas station they’d stopped at. And as amusing as it was to acknowledge the irony in a former superhero-- _“I think glorified child slaves on a considerable amount of superpowered acid fits the bill a bit better there, brother dear.”--_ being such a good thief, the reminder of how far those child heroes were from home, would probably always be, was enough to drop the mood far lower than it had already been. A feat that Klaus probably wouldn’t have thought was genuinely possible a week ago.

 _So_ \-- maybe he had to pawn a few of the rings Ben had told him were “... **actually** _tasteful, Klaus_.” and Allison had to give up Ray’s anniversary necklace and Diego was down three knives, and maybe they were sleeping in the back of abandoned shacks and in zero-star motel closet spaces, and in alleyways hidden by waste bins and sewer rats as big as Vanya, but he was fine, really. They would all be fine. Klaus was optimistic enough. He just couldn't give you a _when_ if you asked.

Allison pokes his side, breaking his thoughts with soft eyes and a huff, nodding her head at Five, small underneath his umbrella and standing dangerously still save for the occasional tremble in his fingers. In the quiet tense that follows, Klaus can hear the bated breath they all held, and wonders if Vanya can too.

Five grunts after a second, breaking the tense spell, shifting the broken umbrella so that it covers his shoulder better, staring with uncharacteristically softer eyes at his brothers while the snow that had been piled up on his umbrella falls in a small heap on the ground.

“You guys are tired, _I get it_ , believe me. So am I. We all are,” Five says through his teeth, eyes boring into them but with his head ducked slightly, very much lacking the overtly pretentious confidence Klaus usually associated with his brother. It's a breath before he speaks again. Vanya hides another cough in her sleeve, Diego sways slightly, and Klaus stares at the tremble in Five’s fingers and blearily remembers that Five’s been with them for three weeks and he doesn’t remember him sleeping all that much, ”...but we can’t start fighting, not now. It’ll slow us down. Keep us from functioning well as a unit and we can’t afford that.” Five pauses, looking around to Vanya, Allison, and Klaus with the same intensity and only slightly dimmer eyes, “We need to stick together, it’s shit right now, but we can’t risk this falling apart even more, got it?”

The only sound Klaus can make out is the sound of their feet for a while, shuffling in the ankle high snow, before Luther walks closer to Diego, letting a, thankfully, less reluctant Diego lean into the low warmth still radiating from his side. The tense atmosphere snaps, Diego sending Luther an apologetic smile and Luther nodding with a tight smile of his own. Five huffs, content with the peace that is made, and turns around, stalking past them with the briefcase in his hand dragging slightly in the snow, leaving a sharp line behind it. His body flickers in and out of sight whenever he passes underneath a streetlight and Klaus can’t help holding his breath every time he vanishes.

Luther and Diego follow behind him, their shoulders hunched and their heads ducked, whispering with voices that are lost in the wind. Allison and Vanya begin to trek forward too, leaning on one another for support as they hobble slowly towards their brothers. Allison stops a few paces ahead, turning back at him with a small frown when he doesn’t make to continue with them, Vanya peering up at him, too, above the lapels at Allison’s shoulder.

Klaus shakes his head as an answer, jogging up to put Allison’s arm around his shoulder and his hand on the small of her lower back, by Vanya’s own circling arm. He doesn’t have the heart to tell them he was waiting for someone else, just barely holding back the turn of his head to the empty space on his left.

He has a feeling Vanya knows, though. Has known since the car ride the week-- _years_ \-- before. He’s avoided her well enough already, excusing himself to pee or muss around a shopping center or slightly less prickly Diego every time they were alone and she was well enough to talk, and she’s kept her space most of the time. But she’s been more persistent these last few days, trying to get him to talk to her or get things off his chest. And he’s thankful for it, really, cause no one else could actually talk to him about it-- couldn’t begin to talk to him about it.

But… he just-- _can’t_ talk about it now.

Not yet, at least. Cause talking about it meant it was permanent, and he wasn’t ready for that yet. He’d like to keep the Ben flickering in his peripheral around just a little longer before giving him up too.

So, when she tries to catch his eyes again, he keeps his head forward.

It takes her a few minutes before she gives up, but she still goes to adjust her hand so it grips Klaus’s own on Allison’s back. He only turns to her to offer a smile, body relaxing when she returns one of her own, before turning to look forward again.

He only hopes things get better-- trailing behind his siblings, eyes tracing the line the briefcase had drawn-- once they got to New York.

Sure, New Jersey had its charm. It was quiet enough and the people here were the type to ignore their little bloody, snappy, bunch like the kind-hearted, _I don’t have the energy to deal with this shit and I’ve seen weirder anyway_ , citizens they were. And if you travelled north enough, you might just have a real pretty view to settle down to. Maybe in a nice log cabin with a little farm on the side. Vanya could relive the memories of her sixties days with her farm Frau and everyone else would be too busy growing food and enjoying the silence to bother arguing.

But, Five was certain that it was their best option to head to the great, smelly, Big Apple. He knew the area better than he did Jersey, had a contact that he was about 39% sure was still there, and could find them a place to stay and a place to find the equipment he needed to fix the briefcase. He was dead set on the fact, no matter how much smoke billowed out of the thing when they’d found it (flung against a tree a few feet away from their clustered landing spot, with a chunk broken from it and smoke wisping out from the closed hatches) or how little money they had in their pockets to get there or how far the trek would be, and no one dared question him.

Really, no one bothered to mention _anything_. I do not see therefore I do not tell-- even though they all saw it clear as day-- because talking about it made it too real. It was the first time in Klaus’s life that he’d seen Luther and Diego refuse to make a plan, following Five silently after Diego ran off to blow off steam-- and give himself a concussion-- and Luther lost the motivation to do anything but sit on a log and stare off into the distance. Allison could barely speak as is and Vanya was distraught enough and couldn’t do much of anything but shake in Allison’s arms. Klaus didn’t bother to interject either, he didn’t know what to do-- which he guesses they all must’ve thought he rarely did anyways. He didn’t bother trying to correct them.

So, really, no one had the heart or confidence to mention that Five religiously read through the same small article that he’d torn from a flyaway newspaper about some recent war or other over and over, again. Nor the fact that he seemed fixated on whoever this Stark character was. Nor the fact that none of them seemed to understand the technology that the people here had despite it being 2015. Nor the fact that _it was 2015_. Nor the fact that the Academy was thousands of miles away. Nor the fact that none of them knew where the end of this nightmare began and where it would end.

Klaus shakes his head and tucks into Allison just a little closer. What was the point in it all anyway?

After all that they’d gone through to finally get home-- _Ben and Dave and Ray and Pogo and Elliot and Sissy and Harlan and Mom and, fuck, even his Cult_ \-- they went and woke up four years earlier than the dials on the briefcase should’ve been set to, in a small national forest on the outskirts of Northeastern New Jersey, tired and hurt and lost, and-- _and the fucking kicker?_

They didn’t even exist here.

Disgruntledly, Klaus wondered who had to go ahead and complicate time travel more than it already was. And if the little girl upstairs would finally take his desperate cries for attention seriously enough so he could go smack Ben upside the head for saving the world and leaving him alone to deal with this shit.

Idly, he kicks a rock in his path and watches it rise with a small spray of snow and sink into a bright patch a bit away.

There really wasn’t anything that could make that happen, though. Not unless he jumped in front of a car and hoped the pre-pubescent girl in the sky would give him a minute before booting him down.

It’s a tempting thought-- one he’s aware isn’t new-- but then Allison lets out a broken, heartbreakingly soft, _“Claire…”_ before tipping her head into his shoulder. Not for the first time, either.

Vanya sniffles past the tears spilling over her own cheeks from her coughs, doubled over for a moment, but rubs Allison’s back softly anyways. Diego trips over his feet a few steps in front of them, losing his grip on Luther and failing to his knees where he’s still for a moment, his head bent forward, his arms locked, and his shoulders heaving.

And it’s because Luther feels useless and defeated standing by Diego’s side, and Five looks a second away from keeling over, and the Umbrella Academy is so extraordinarily broken that Reginald Hargreeves is probably throwing a party in the hellhole he’s calling the afterlife, that Klaus knows he can’t do it. They needed a new storefront umbrella or fire escape over their heads and cheap gas station jerky in their stomachs and scratchy sweaters over their shoulders, not another dead sibling. He would have to wait. Ben would have to wait, _everything else_ would have to wait for them.

So, for now, he trails forward, watches as Luther helps Diego up and Five yawns quickly into his sleeve when he thinks no one can see him. He carefully stops his sisters and moves to place himself in between Vanya and Allison, helping them balance both their weights as Five slows down to walk by Diego and they all unconsciously begin to walk closer to one another.

He counts seven steps before he kicks another stone, this one making it just below the next lit streetlight.

Klaus just needs to find them their next sleeping arrangements, that’s all he needs to do. He’s taking things one step at a time because that’s all he thinks he _can_ do at this point.

Klaus bites the inside of his cheek and counts the steps as he kicks another rock. If only the fucking world could wait a little bit too and give them the chance to catch up for once

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first Fanfiction, like ever, and I'm still new to the Umbrella Academy fandom (so if anyone's ooc, I'd be happy to know!), but the idea wouldn't leave my head so I wrote it anyway. Let me know what you think or if the idea seems nice!
> 
> English isn't my first language, so if the grammar is weird also please let me know!


	2. making buildings out of cardboard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hargreeves siblings are tired, hungry, and wandering through New York with a bare bones grasp of their situation and a silent hope guiding them through the world they've found themselves in. 
> 
> or, they make a plan, make some discoveries, and bump into anomalies and emotional constipation throughout the winding streets of the Bronx.

When they’d first stepped off the bus into New York, bone weary and totally broke, Luther and Five agreed that splitting up would be their best bet of doing reconnaissance and coming up with a game plan ahead of the blizzard that seemed to be edging along the sky. 

“Are we sure this is the best plan?” Allison had rasped out where she, Diego, and Vanya were huddled on the small bus stop bench, and Klaus, standing under the sign just to her left, had hummed in agreement. Because, for as much as he trusted Five’s judgement-- and, as of shockingly late, Luther’s-- splitting up in a dimension that no one knew anything about, beyond that everyone here seemed to have a, glowing walkie talkie and a gross obsession with talking about public shelters, politics and, the semantics behind governing individual autonomy-- which, _okay_ , a creepy militaristic dimension wasn’t the absolute _worst_ place they could’ve ended up, but still the possibility, is _not comforting_ \-- probably wasn’t the best idea.

"Considering Diego's plan, I think this one is pretty well off." Luther said. Diego grumbled something and Klaus reached over to pat his shoulder sympathetically, but he couldn't deny that Luther wasn't totally off about it.

By the time they were officially headed for New York, Klaus would have liked to believe that they would've come to some general consensus about their plan of action. but everyone seemed to be suggesting different things, or remaining as completely lost as he was.

Diego had suggested scaling the building or tracking Five's contact's house down, but Five had slapped him against the shoulder, just barely missing his head on instinct, and had sneered at the general stupidity of the question because -- “We are seriously in _no_ condition to scale a skyscraper, or outrun any guards that’ll, inevitably, find us stumbling around like idiots. The guy’s an ex-commission agent, and if he isn’t dead in this timeline then I’m damn sure he wouldn’t let people as noticeable and uncoordinated as us so easily track down his home.”-- and the idea had died down before it even had the chance to sprout.

And since that was about as far as they'd gotten plan wise, they'd been laying low. Antsy and hungry and more than a little bit filthy. Vanya had suggested that they ask around a few of the homeless shelters when they hit New York, but the weather was getting colder and the more they pushed into the snowy season the more busy the Shelters got.

Klaus had told them as much, that they would probably have better luck finding shelter if they got themselves arrested. No one tried to acknowledge that small fact, but Klaus couldn't really blame them for wanting to be ignorant or a little longer. 

\

“As risky as the idea is, we’d draw far more attention to ourselves if we walked around together.” Vanya surmised, tucking her fingers below her thighs as a car blew past them, kicking up snow. 

Luther hunched his shoulders unconsciously while she spoke, and Five-- bless his cold, little, soul-- must’ve felt Luther’s discomfort and interjected, “Besides the fact that us travelling in the city together would be conspicuous --” 

“Wait. Okay so yes, everyone here _does_ seem really apprehensive for some reason, and they may not take all that kindly to us. We’d be sore thumbs out there. _But_ ,” Diego paused, looking conflicted as he glanced between his siblings,” is it really all that safe for us to split up right now? We have our powers, but we also have no clue what type of place this is or what we’re getting ourselves into.” Diego said, motioning around the group with his last knife. Klaus could notice the visible relief on most of their faces upon noticing the vitality mostly back in Diego. 

And everyone seemed to nod at that, with the exception of Five who looked to be considering something, his eyes drawn away and his tongue between his teeth. 

“None of us are really in any condition to protect ourselves. And even with our powers, who knows how well people would react to seeing us.” Allison rasped, bringing her hand to rub against her forehead, closing her eyes for a moment. “I mean, what if no one else in this place has powers?” 

“What if everyone else has powers too?” Klaus snorted, mostly as a joke, but the question seemed to settle between them.

As soon as he’d asked the question, a sound above their heads drew their attention up to what looked like a series of black blurs in the sky, shooting past them far too quickly for any shape to be distinguished. It was quiet for a moment, before one more blur flew past them, this one silent and absolutely huge. Klaus could feel himself shiver as the treetops shook and a shadow flitted over them, leaving them in darkness momentarily before vanishing along with the other blurs.

It must’ve been flying low.

For a moment, Klaus was worried a bomb would drop. It took all his willpower, and the full uncertainty of what it was that he had just seen, not to duck below the bench or pull his siblings away.

“Was… was that a _plane_?” Luther asked, brows furrowing, breath held like the rest of them.

“That looked military.” Diego muttered, eyes tracing the air, as if waiting for another blur to streak the sky.

“I don’t remember the military having any planes that fast.” Five said, face tight and voice low.

It was quiet in the moments following, while everyone digested the-- now very open-- elephant in the universe. That is-- the actual timeline, or place, they’d found themselves in. It was a minute, maybe two, before their voices all rose together again, question following question following confused exclamation and panicked gesture, because-- bottling up their anxiety and confusion until the worst possible moment was a _very_ Hargreeves thing, apparently.

_Dude, what if this place is like hundreds of years in the future? I thought it was 2015, though? It doesn’t look like 2015. Maybe we’re not on Earth. It looks like our Earth, though? But what if it isn’t? Dude. We’re in New York._

_Yeah, is this even a new universe at all? It could be the ramifications of our time travel?_

_Then, does this place not know us as the Umbrella Academy because the Academy doesn’t exist? What if the Academy exists, just, without_ us _in it?_ _What, so dad took our warnings to heart and just-- didn’t adopt us? Or didn't start the Academy to begin with._

_Hey-- do you think we’d still be remembered as the suspects in the Kennedy Assassination?_ _Maybe no mention of that little shitshow appears here?_

_How would we find out, though?_

_Where would we go? Who would we go to? What the hell are we going to do?_

It was an open ended question with as many answers as there were possible realties; as Diego so eloquently surmised were probably a metric fuck ton. Which, up until a few weeks ago, they’d all mostly believed there was _one_ reality, so even _that_ was difficult for them to wrap their heads around. Time travel and the fabric of time was one thing, but the concept of infinitely many dimensions? Infinitely many realities and universes? 

It was hectic for another minute or so, Five looked about ready to pop a vein-- either because of them or because of their situation, Klaus wasn’t sure, but he was leaning somewhere towards the middle-- until Klaus raised his hand, waiting until the voices died down and everyone, including Five, were openly staring at him to talk.

“Going back to the plan at hand. While I do agree with Diego on this, because I trust this place less than I do most criminally infested alleyways, I do think that you are _gravely_ underestimating how little the people of New York would care about us in any universe--”

“If this even _is_ New York--”

“Okay! Thank you for the points.” Diego and Klaus, and the rest of their lively bunch, turned to Five, whose face was slightly redder than it was a minute ago. They quieted down, looking at Five and waiting for him to speak.

They might as well consider all their bases regardless of where they were, right? 

Five sighed and brushed his hand through his hair quickly, a newer habit he’d picked up within the last few weeks (or within the last fifty years, none of them could rightly pinpoint). 

“What I’m saying is that we probably run the chance of taking far more time than we can afford to lose lumping together from place to place.” He said, turning around slightly to eye the city-wide map that had greeted them on a small signpost upon entry.

“We can worry about the semantics of where we are later. As much as it pains me to say it, our priority isn’t the actual temporal or spatial significances of our situation. Our survival is.” He took a few steps toward the map, scrutinizing it with his hands on his hips and the remnants of the morning’s snow landing on his hair. For a moment, hunched and covered in white, Klaus could almost imagine him looking like the older man he normally forgot that he was-- and from the way they’ve all seemed to stop and watch him, in a silent, almost eerie, shock, he imagines his siblings must be thinking the same.

Luther even looked a little green.

Klaus was the second oldest, at this point. Thirty-four and feeling every bit of it, from his knees to his jaw to his back and a deeper ache that he imagines didn’t come from age or their hundred mile trek. Allison came after him, then Luther, Diego, and Vanya. They all didn’t look a day over thirty (or, in Five’s case, a day over thirteen). He couldn’t tell if that was a stroke of luck or a curse (He didn’t want to think about adding the ramifications of their little journeys on their appearances to his growing list of _Shit I don’t want to deal with but probably have to at some point, so I’m going to file it away and act like I’m going to consider for as long as possible,_ just yet, though)

“We need food, we need shelter, we need clothes, and we need information.”

Five paused, eyes quickly flicking across the map once more before turning around to look between them, calculating them in the same way he probably did his equations, before he spoke again, eyes set on Klaus.

“Klaus, you’ve proven to be good at scavenging, so we need you to prioritize gathering food, clothes, and toiletries. So, that’s anything we can safely digest and anything we can use to give us some semblance of cleanliness. Prioritize anything that can cover up a wound.” Klaus gave it a second’s thought, if anything because it was pure habit to get on his siblings nerves just a little bit and he needed the normalcy of seeing Allison roll her eyes and Five’s jaw tick, before nodding and leaning his back against the pole of the Bus Sign. Five gave him a quick nod of thanks before flicking his eyes over to Allison, then Diego.

“Diego, how’s your head?”

“Much clearer, actually.” Diego muttered, his hand reaching up to gently touch around his wound. And, yeah, it was still raw-looking and probably smarted like a bitch, but he wasn’t tongue tied and was about as clear headed as he could get while stuck on an alien, but terribly uncanny, world with no guaranteed way of getting home. Five gave him a moment before speaking, as if giving him a chance to retract his statement-- and don’t let it be unsaid that, for as much as he says it, Five didn’t _actually_ hate his family. 

“Okay, good. You were a cop for a bit, right?”

“Flunked out of the police Academy actually, on account of my rampant ‘Vigilantism,’” Diego said with a soft scoff, that he accentuated with air quotes, “but, yeah-- I spent a lot of time around cops, and know most of the shit they follow from my Academy days.” Klaus could hear the hitch in Diego’s voice for a second and his mind unhelpfully flitted back to the officer who’d freed him, and he swallowed down his own patch of guilt at the reminder of the gunshot that had sounded while he was in the vents, escaping.

“Then you can get people to talk?” Diego smirked and sent Five a thumbs up. 

“Take Allison,” he turned to her, “you might be sick but you’re probably the best person here when it comes to lying and manipulating.” Five said with a slight grimace. Allison, for her sake, didn’t seem to take his words as personally as she probably would’ve in any other situation, sending Five a quick, albeit tight, smile and her own thumbs up. 

“You two should work on getting us any information about this place. The technology might be a bit much for us to try and grasp at this point anyway, but start small regardless. The people we’ve met here so far also don’t seem inclined to go in too deep into whatever these “Attacks” have been, but maybe that’s just cause we looked like dirty street hobos--” 

“We still kind of do though?” Diego remarked, looking down at his torn up jacket and mud-caked pants.

“Yeah, but hobos in upper-middle class Suburban New Jersey are probably less common there than in New York.” 

They raised their brows at him, and he groaned. In a flash of blue he was gone, startling Luther, who was closest to him, before appearing again and almost falling to his knees with a groan, two black pieces of fabric tucked in his hands.

Luther shot out to steady him.

“Five! What were you thinking!” Vanya jumped up, staggering only slightly, before rushing to help Luther, quite unnecessarily really, but it gave her something to do and something to keep her panic at bay (which had lead to a small mishap when they’d first landed and something that’s kept most them on edge these last few days as they grew closer and closer to New York and the possibility of finding nothing there for them).

Five took a deep breath. 

_(When they’d first landed, they’d all taken various falls. Allison had fallen on her leg and side and had rolled down the edge of a short cliff, Vanya had hit a rock and was out instantly, Klaus was lucky enough to fall onto a patch of grass, but wasn’t so lucky after having Luther fall directly on top of him, Five had fallen (back first) on a tree branch and then down the twelve feet below him to the ground, and Diego was knocked unconscious by hitting the asphalt road a fair ways away from them.)_

Gripping Luther’s arm a little, Five was painfully still, hunched for a moment more, before he stood up, shaking off Luther and Vanya and sending them each a nod of thanks. It was progress from when he’d first shaken them off when they tried to help him up in the forest, although Klaus thinks that was less Five hating physicality and more his frustration and confusion in the moment. 

Five bundled the two pieces of fabric and tossed one to Allison and the other to Diego, who unfurled them to find cotton shawls.

“I saw someone board the bus a few miles from here yesterday and forget them on the bench. Thought I’d check to see if they were still there.” He said, nodding to himself, despite Allison’s incredulous expression and Diego’s raised brow, when they put the shawls around their shoulders

“You look more or less fine, a little water to get some of the dirt off your faces and you should be presentable enough.” 

Allison and Diego looked each other up on down, deeming the coverings sufficient enough.

“We need to be prepared for anything, so try and get as much general information as possible-- any laws or significant recent news or expected traditions. Keep yourselves conversational and casual, don’t come off as interrogators” Five paused, his hand clenching around something inside his jacket, before he pulled out the small section of the article clipping he’d been hanging on to for the past week, holding it out for Allison to take. “I also need you to look into Tony Stark and his affiliation with astrophysicist Jane Foster.” Diego and Vanya looked over Allison’s shoulder, no doubt as curious as Klaus (who had, along with Luther, made to step by them to glance at the paper) to look at the object of Five’s obsession for the last week. Klaus could make out the black and white image of a man’s face, smirking into the camera, arms wide open and a cocky edge to him with the small amount of teeth he bared and the sharpness he could make out in his eyes. The uppermost parts of a headline that he could just barely make out read, “The Faces that Opened the Doors to Space and Disaster: A Case Study of Power in the Hands of the Powerful.”

“Do you know who he is?” Vanya asked, looking up at Five with furrowed brows.

“No,” he said, clenching his jaw, sounding irritated that he didn’t know the answer to something, “I don’t recognize him from any time period that I’ve been to, but he’s famous here-- whether that’s based on something good or bad is beyond me. The piece of the article I have gets cut off after the introduction. But, from what I could make out, he and the other person mentioned in that paper either have access to or know quite a lot about something that affects Space.” 

“Space as in the-- cosmos, Space? Or, Space as in your powers?” Allison asked, raising her brows as she read through the article. Klaus could make out that the article was an opinion piece, and a scalding one at that. Whatever this thing was that could manipulate-- _Space?--_ seemed to be one of many things affecting the people on this Earth. And a fair amount of them weren’t happy about it.

“I don’t know, but it’s the first lead I’ve got.”

“And… you think this’ll help us, what? Give you the juice to take us back to our world and timeline?” Diego asked, looking up at Five. His siblings murmered in agreement, all just as eager as him to get back home after months of being away-- years, for some of them.

“I don’t know what it’ll do, I don’t even know if this thing is real or if it’s part of some movie or propaganda piece--” He began to pace in front of them, burrowing his fingers into his hair while his siblings glanced up at him, sharing glances of worry, both for Five and the uncertainty of their situation for the foreseeable future.

“I don’t know if this thing has been useless from the get go or if I’m _actually_ going insane for believing it or why my numbers haven’t been adding up since we got here or if I’ve essentially doomed us to an eternity in this place and I have _no idea_ how to get us back, but--” He stopped, back to them and shoulders hunched-- none of them spoke, but they all looked like they wanted to say something.

Five took a deep breath and turned back to them a second later, his eyes slightly duller as he shook his head. 

“I just-- don’t know. You’re going to have to trust me on this.” 

Allison’s eyes softened, sending Five a sharp nod. Diego immediately did the same.

“We trust you.” Luther said, Klaus grinning and nodding along from where he’d draped himself over Luther’s shoulder to look at Five. Luther made no move to push him off, adjusting his posture slightly to accommodate for the new weight. 

“Five?” Vanya said, catching Five’s attention when it had gone glassy, “It’s okay that you don’t know, we’ll just figure it out together.” She paused, took a deep breath and looked around them, “We’re family. we're all here for reach other” She said it slowly, still getting used to the novelty of it.

“We’ll get through this and we don’t blame you.”

Five grimaced slightly, but Allison interjected before he could speak, “We _don’t_ , Five.”

“You’ve saved us twice already.” Diego said, rubbing the back of his neck, “Some of us a few more times than that.”

“Besides, this time we have each other from the get-go, and we aren’t as stuck up our own asses as we normally are” Klaus began. Diego snorted and Allison bumped her shoulder into his, but she was smiling too, “We’ll get through this Five-y, we’ve done it enough times already and this time, you aren’t going to be alone in doing it.” Klaus said, watching in slight wonder as Five’s shoulders slumped and he sent them all a tight, thankful, smile. 

_(And the lack of reprimand over the nickname? Wow, they really were growing)_

“Thank you.” Five muttered, sniffing once and rubbing his face quickly, before turning his attention to Luther and Vanya.

And, well, it was a start. 

Klaus could see that everyone seemed to accept the small ‘Thank you’ as a sign for something. They probably couldn’t tell you what, but it was something better. For that they were _mostly_ sure. 

Maybe this time all their cuts would heal over instead of scar.

“Luther. Vanya. Could you two scout out possible locations for shelter?” 

Vanya nodded, Luther agreeing only a few seconds after, looking at Vanya hesitantly to see if she seemed uncomfortable with the idea. She turned to him, sending him a smile and reaching out slowly to hold his hand and squeeze it. Luther blinked in quiet surprise, before squeezing her hand gently, a hair away from feeling like nothing, and relaxing slightly. His shoulders were less awkward and he was smiling even though he still looked weary. 

Five looked between them with a small smile.

“Good. Stick to the lower end districts. Shelter means anything that can get us out of the immediate impact of any blizzard. I’d say check out homeless shelters anyway-- thanks for the heads up, Klaus--”

_“Oh, it’s no problem at all.”_

“--but it won’t hurt to look. Abandoned buildings are probably a no-go unless you think they’re structurally sound and aren’t monitored. I don’t want us on any sort of radars this early on, even mundane ones. If buildings are a dead end, look for alleyways with alcoves or archways. I’d rather sleep under a bridge than in an open-sky park.” Vanya and Luther sent Five two quick nods, and Five nodded once, looking back to the map.

“So, what are you planning on doing?” Luther asked after a second.

“Well, “ Five smirked, “being this young looking has its perks.” Luther tilted his head, and Klaus waved his hand, urging him to speak, but Five seemed inclined to keep his plans a secret. Allison looked like she wanted to press further, but Diego stopped her, looking at her as if to say-- _Let him have this, we’ll grill him over being a sneaky bastard later--_ and Allison had bit her tongue, even though her expression still gave off her worry.

“We meet here,” Five pointed towards a small park on the map, “in an hour and a half.” He reached for a few smaller copies of the map, tucked in a small box by the base of the signpost, and began to hand them out. “Don’t use your powers unless absolutely necessary for your immediate survival. We don’t know how others will react to them and it’s best to keep them as an ace anyway. We’ll each have a fifteen minute grace period. If someone misses the time slot we’ll head off in pairs to look for them, alternating so that someone is always at the park in case they show up. Watch each other’s backs and keep each other safe.” Five said, looking between them. They each seemed a little more steady, their bodies held just a little bit straighter. They looked hopeful-- uneasy and still very exhausted, but hopeful. 

Five turned to Klaus again, “Klaus, I’ll go with you for the first stretch of the time. We’ll split off about half an hour in or so. That seem good to you?” 

“Alright with me.” Klaus agreed, already figuring that his siblings were counting on him to get as much info about Five’s little secret escapade as he could.

“Well then,” Five tried for another smile, but it came off more like a hesitant grimace, “let’s get to it.”

With that, they were off. 

* * *

Klaus had taken the time to map out his route while still at the stop, mentally keeping track of all the smaller shops and department stores within their general area. Five had insisted he use the map, and he held it to humor him more than anything, but he did occasionally glance at it to make sure they didn’t get lost in the winding streets of the Bronx. 

For the most part, everyone seemed to look past them, they weren’t gaining much attention for a child in a torn schoolboy outfit and a man wearing a vest in butt-fuck-cold temperature. Klaus, a tad smug that he was correct and no one in fact _did_ care, had taken their newfound unobtrusiveness as an opportunity to scope out what the passerbyers were doing. Five seemed to be doing the same. 

Some of them were speaking into the glowing walkie-talkies, others rubbing them. Klaus moved to the side to let two children run past him, the devices blaring music in their hands much like his stereo did. Their mother-- babysitter or aunt, maybe?-- dressed in a sharp suit, came chasing after them, and Klaus eyed the small black earpiece she pressed as she spoke. Not to her children, or to any of the surrounding populace, but to, who he could only imagine, must’ve been someone elsewhere (with another device?). 

The cars that drove past them were sleek, metallic and smooth, but still just as smelly. 

Klaus physically did a double take upon seeing one of the parked car’s steering wheels turning on it’s own as it joined the crowded road, it’s driver scrolling idly through a larger version of the devices that everyone here seemed to own. 

“Oh, what the fuck.” 

Five seemed to be sharing the sentiment, eyeing the entity that suddenly flew above them, fast and silent, like the jets-- as the general consensus had fallen-- from earlier, melding into the clouds like it wasn’t there to begin with. It truly was unlike anything he’s ever encountered before, and he’s seen the birth of a new Earth from the ruins of the apocalypse. If it weren’t for the glint of the sun as the jet vanished, and the shimmering film around it’s edges that Five could _just_ make out, he wouldn’t have realized it was there. No one else seemed to notice, or they noticed but didn’t seem to care.

“Five! Five, look!” Five didn’t have much time to react, his mouth still opened slightly in shock, as Klaus grabbed his hand and pulled him up to a shop window. An angry remark was on his tongue but before he could let it out, Klaus was already speaking again.

“The devices that everyone here had. I think they call them-- cell phones?” Five looked to where Klaus was reading, eyes widening marginally as his eyes flicked through the rotating images of the different-- cell phones? 

“Or, mobile phones, I guess? Smartphones? Let’s just say phones for simplicity's sake.”

The screens changed every five or so seconds, the words _Apple, Google, Galaxy_ were the ones he could make out in between the glaringly bright claims of faster OS’s and higher speed internet and wider lens cameras. Bigger this and better that. A phone that did more than just call? That they could hold in their pockets? 

“Christ, this would’ve been helpful to have in our world.” Klaus muttered as he watched someone scroll through a site of movies and clips, wondering idly if Allison’s movie’s existed here at all.

Five’s attention was caught again by the sound of an engine above him, high pitched and sharp. A few people around him, he noticed in his peripheral, seemed to look up too. Some had their phones-- cameras, too?-- held up to the sky. Others grimaced and ducked into stores and buildings. Five could make out a brief flash of red before the sky was clear again. His eyes continued to trace the sky for a moment, where the people around him had already grown either disinterested or content with the unhappenings, waiting to see if something else would appear. 

“Hey, Five?” Klaus muttered, eyes quickly reading the info on the screen. 

“What?” Five asked, eyes still flicking across the sky.

The sun was just setting, so most of the smaller shops were already closing up, most likely in anticipation for the storm front. The streets were still fairly crowded though, so when Klaus spoke again, Five couldn’t quite hear him. He could hear, however, the conversation happening a few inches away.

“Every single time they're out here people panic, man you gotta see that that can’t be right.”

“They don’t panic because of _them_ , but because of what it might mean that they have to be gathered up.”

“The only reason a lot of these clusterfucks keep happening is because their presence invites them to begin with.”

“What, a dinner party invitation?”

“Or a challenge.”

“Right, so because Doctors and Private Eye’s exist, people are more inclined to become sick or get mysteriously murdered?”

“Well, no, but-- I mean... _man, I don’t know._ I drew the line at Aliens but now with all the evil AI stuff and these new mutant rumors? I honestly think they should be held accountable.”

“They already _are_ being held accountable for a lot of shit that isn’t their fault.”

“Still, we need restrictions in place.”

“Sure, but so long as those restrictions are humane and reasonable. Just because they’re more than human doesn't negate the fact that they deserve freedom of choice.”

“But how many of those choices are _really_ theirs to make?”

“Listen dude, all I know is that I and probably thousands of others sleep a lot better knowing that a lot of these disasters could’ve been far worse if they weren’t here at all.”

“Whatever you say, I guess.”

“Five?” Five’s head whipped back to Klaus, brows furrowed and curiosity thoroughly piqued, and his general pessimism only slightly dampened as a result. Before Five could ask Klaus what he was jabbering on about, his eyes traced the finger Klaus was pointing to the shop window, his own brows raised high as the images of the newest “Stark Phone” began to flick across the screen. Noticing, with only slightly bated breath, as the image of the man from the article clipping rose up from a sleek pane of glass and began to move around, seemingly anchored by the device.

“I think they call them holograms? Or-- that’s what the very bright message that popped up a second ago said. Along with the generous four figure price tag, but y’know, who am I to question the tech market of this place” Klaus said, breath slightly airy as he watched what looked like something from Ben’s sci-fi books come alive in front of him.

Klaus likes to think that Ben is out there somewhere grinning ear to ear, because the absolute tech geek that he was would absolutely be all over this world’s technology. Klaus and Ben weren’t as close as Ben, Vanya, and Five were when they were younger. But Klaus was the only one manic enough (“You were brave Klaus, not manic” "-- _Shut up Consciousness-Ben")_ to calm Ben down after the Horrors got too out of control, which meant he spent a lot of time hovering around him after particularly rough missions. Keeping his spirits light and his general anxiety as low as he could get it. He learned quick enough that Ben would trail after Pogo often in hope that their pseudo-caretaker would toss him a little machine their father deemed too worthless to pursue further that he could pour over. Taking it apart piece by piece and trying his best to put it back together. It was then that Klaus learned that Reginald had a side job as an inventor whenever he wasn’t actively kicking puppies and burning down orphanages, and that Ben was as Tech smart as he was Book smart. Which was generally deemed extremely fucking smart.

Whenever Klaus was there, Ben would take the time to explain what each part of the little machines did and where they went and why they went there. At first Klaus would humor Ben because he couldn’t even begin trying to comprehend what Ben was going on about half the time. But when Klaus had actually taken the time to ask him a question about a small device that had genuinely piqued his interest (“It’s supposed to be a mini communicator, I think. Like a phone that we can carry around with us and use to send each other information during missions. It even looks like an Umbrella. Dad really went all out on this one.”) and Ben had lit up like what a child on Christmas was supposed to look like, Klaus started paying attention to Ben when he spoke. Trying to make as much sense as he could from the techno-babble so that he could ask him questions and make as many sensible comments as he could. Klaus wasn’t a tech-aficionado by any means, but he’d learned to appreciate the innovation of technology for what it was and how far it made leaps. So, seeing this? Just how far this world was technologically and how commonplace the sense of gradual innovation was? It felt like he was fourteen, sitting crisscrossed in front of Ben, both of them sucking on lollipops Klaus had managed to sneak past Reginald, while Ben grinned and laughed and flung himself into Klaus’s arms to hop around whenever he got a small bulb to flicker or a crackle of static to surface. It felt like he was reading Ben a story about toasters and TVs that could speak and act for themselves and cars that flew through clouds and cities that were built on metal islands in the sky and beneath giant domes in the ocean. 

It felt painful and it felt calming all at once.

“Change of plans.” Five said, startling Klaus out of his thoughts. Five was scribbling something into his palm with what looked like a stub of charcoal, and Klaus caught sight of an address on the screen in front of them below the flashing words “Stark Tower Exclusive!” (before it changed to what looked like a flat typewriter with a glowing screen),

“Uh, are you sure you want to look into things that quickly? You did say you wanted to keep us off any radars.” Klaus asked, looking at Five anxiously.

Five rolled his eyes, looking like he was about to flash off before he paused and sighed, turning back to look up at Klaus.

“I don’t plan on breaking in and I don’t plan on drawing any attention to us. But, it can’t hurt to scope the place out. This guy is far more involved in this world beyond just being a scientist.” Five said, eyes determined (if only slightly crazed and antsy) but his stance was open; his shoulders loose and his expression relaxed and his body language patient, as if open to hearing Klaus’s opinion, waiting for _his_ response. 

Klaus could feel his eyes widen on their own, because, yeah, a new first-- Five was trusting _him_ with his next move. He was giving Klaus a chance and, huh-- _didn’t that feel great and oddly very pressuring._

“I mean--” Klaus paused, because he probably _should_ advise against it because that’s what any of their other siblings would do. The image of Five, whimpering and curled up on himself at the base of that tree had left him sick to his stomach the first time, and it was back in full force again, filling his mind. This time Five wasn't moving. And he didn't want it to happen, would give anything to keep it from happening, but Five was right. They needed to even out their field of understanding, and if he was _only_ scoping the place out…

“If you promise to only check out the place and you stay out of danger, I guess it’s fine.” Five smiled, turning around and ready to head off before Klaus rushed to grab his shoulder.

“Five, _please_ promise me that you’ll be careful?” Five turned to him, mouth pursed thinly, his dimples deep.

_“Of course I will--”_

“I don’t want to lose another brother.” Five paused, face softening and eyes dimming slightly. Because, of course Five knew. Even if all he’d had to go off of was Vanya’s multiple attempts to talk to Klaus and Klaus’s own distant gazes and one-off, short-lived, conversations, but he knew Ben had to be gone and he couldn’t bear thinking about it for too long himself without feeling his chest tighten and his eyes water (Because Ben was his bestfriend and he was dead before he picked up Vanya’s book and dead after he read it and dead again in every single timeline he’s had to visit, and he never got the chance to speak with him _once_ , not to apologize for vanishing or for being an idiot or for leaving him alone to die, and _fuck--_ ). And if he could barely handle the pain of losing Ben, when he’s been dead to him for over forty years, then Klaus…

Five sighed, stepping out from beneath Klaus's hand, watching as Klaus's face dropped.

“I promise." He said and Klaus's expression slowly lifted. "I’ll be careful. I’m not leaving you all behind again.” Five’s voice was steady and his eyes didn’t leave Klaus’s for a minute, and Klaus could feel his shoulders loosen and his eyes shutter closed. 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Klaus opened his eyes and placed his hands in his back pockets, looking at Five through the sides of his eyes.

“Hey, Five, before you head off?”

“Hmm?”

“How much money do we have left right now?” Five furrowed his brows and reached into his pockets, digging around for a minute before coming up with a crumpled dollar bill, three quarters, a dime, a button from Five’s uniform, and a coupon for a free Taco at some local chain.

Klaus grinned, eyes flicking to the woman walking past him with bags from a dollar tree. He looked behind him to the alleyway they’d passed on their trek into the city, with the two wheeled cart leaning against the dumpster, and turned back to Five with an outstretched hand. 

“Tonight, we eat like middle class royalty.”

Five raised his brow, looking utterly disbelieving and, to his credit, not in the least bit surprised. He handed Klaus the change nonetheless

* * *

  
  


“All closed up?” Vanya looked up from where she was looking down at the ground, her hands running through her hair. 

“Yeah.” She rasped to Luther, who kicked off from where he was sitting against the wall of the Shelter. He nodded his head forward and she nodded back, walking by him with her hands in her pockets. It was quiet while they traced there way back in the direction of the park, moving out of the way of the few people rushing past them.

“Any others around here?” Luther asked, ducking below a low tree as they walked through the already half empty sidewalk. It was getting dark.

“No. Not unless we want to walk four miles that way.” She said, pointing her finger behind them before quickly tucking it back into her pocket. Luther gently moved closer to her side, and she sent him a small smile of thanks. 

It was quiet again, and Vanya couldn’t rightly tell if it was because there was nothing to be said or if they’d relapsed back into awkwardness. 

They’d already checked the closest Shelters, finding apologetic frowns and the occasional granola bar instead of any real place to sleep. Luther had scouted a few of the buildings that had looked mostly empty, although most of them ended up being private property with very nosy, and very threatening, landlords at the ready to greet his inquisitiveness. 

_“Uhh.. I was just looking to see if you were, um, r-renting, Ma’am?”_

_“We ain’t got no place here for you, so you can take that_ ma’am _attitude of yours and boot it.” The woman had only reached his stomach in height, was wearing pink curlers, a sleeping gown, and yellow slippers, but she held what looked like a stuffed sock and sharp eyes. Luther had raised his hands placatingly, walking backwards, bumping into a few trash cans, while she stared him down. He booked it out of there quicker than he would ever confess to actually doing._

_The next four buildings left him with just about the same outcome and at least one rolling pin induced bruise on his shoulder._

“We still haven’t checked out Fourth, there might be a few alleyways there that could give us some good cover.” Luther suggested, a fake optimism, that made both him and Vanya frown, emanating from his voice.

  
“Okay, so maybe _not_ Fourth. But there has to be some place, right? This place is huge.”

“There probably is a place, but the question is whether or not we’ll find it.” Vanya sighed, fingers gripping the map in her pocket a little tighter. She could hear Luther pause a few steps behind her to ask a pedestrian for the time, and she felt her frown deepen. There really wasn’t all that much time left before they had to get back to the park, and they were just as homeless as they were an hour ago. They had a few goodies between them from the Shelters and a few generous swipes that Luther was daring enough to pull off (with a lot more success than either of them were anticipating), but Klaus had been right. The shelters barely had room for two stragglers, let alone a family of six. They didn’t have enough money for a motel, and there were hardly any trees to sleep under that would keep them hidden from law enforcement.

Luther had suggested they actually look for a bridge to sleep under, but the only one they could find that was large enough was a few feet away from a sewage pipe and a runoff canal. 

_They weren’t that desperate,_ Vanya had muttered as she pinched her nose while Luther tried weakly to pick through the garbage to measure the space constraints and argue the pros and cons of Hypothermia vs Tetanus.

“We have fifteen minutes before Five sends a search party.” Luther said, squinting as the setting sun bounced off a passing car and into his eyes. “Think we could run down by Maddison and see if the Shelter there will let us in this time?”

Vanya shook her head. “We might as well start heading back.” 

She took the silence as acceptance, her head low and her eyes tracing the steps she made in the snow.

Luther tugged his jacket closer to his shoulders, rubbing his cheeks again, as if to clear out the dirt that had to still be there. 

Vanya glanced up at him after a moment at the sound of the harsh cloth against his skin and paused slightly. She sighed under her breath, closing her eyes for a moment. 

“Here.” She reached into her pocket for the small wet towelette the receptionist at the last Shelter had given her, tearing the package with numb fingers and holding it up to Luther with a gentle smile. He gave her an appreciative look, still awkward at the edges, pausing to sit on a nearby bench and thoroughly wipe down his cheeks. 

Vanya didn’t mention that there was no dirt left on them, seeing as he didn’t seem to take her words for fact the first three times, but she sat down by him regardless. Leaning into the warmth he radiated. She took out the folded map in her pocket and slowly crossed out the last of the possible places her and Luther had come up with. With a sigh, she lent back and closed her eyes, wishing for the warmth of the Farm and Sissy’s body. 

It was something she was trying her hardest not to think much about, because Sissy and Harlan and the quiet of the Farm were a pipe dream and she should’ve known it would end just about the same way as everything else in her life did-- with her alone and those she cared about most so far out of her reach they may as well have been fake to begin with. Figures in her mind that her perpetual solitude seemed to carve out and taunt her with. Like Five and Ben and her mother and her family as it was before she was drugged up and discarded-- useless, _useless, useless_

Like Sissy and Harlan and a version of herself that was brave and loved. Someone a part of something smaller, smaller and a part of something bigger, bigger and a part of something grand. Grander than the Academy and the flashing lights of distant cameras and Reginald Hargreeves, with his cane and his monocle and the boot he’d kicked her down with. Something extraordinary, maybe something just beyond that. 

But, she could still feel Sissy’s fingers on her side and her nose by her ear, tucked into her hair and breathing slowly. She could still feel Harlan by her feet, she could feel the sofa and the bed and the hay, but she couldn’t feel herself. Numb and cold and distant. Alone and clinging to dreams and ink on paper. 

For a moment, she couldn’t see or feel anything, and part of her was cognizant of the spark of fear that struck through her body, curling against her spine and settling by her heart. Squeezing and stinging and pulling. The urge to curl her fingers against the metal of the bench or scream as she felt her body vanish beneath her was there, but she couldn’t quite do much. Could do anything.

But at least she could hear. She could hear Sissy singing softly and her heartbeat rising and Harlan’s record scratching a room, a mile, away. Her Family’s laughter was to her right and Violin Concerto No. 1 was playing to her left. Her father was taunting her, slamming his cane against the ground ( _one, two, three onetwothree)_ and her mother was screaming as she was torn open and the world was burning and the moon was shattering.

She could hear everything all at once. 

But she heard nothing all the same. 

“Hey, you okay?” The voice was loud and distant, panicked in such a foreign way, that her body shot up.

Her eyes opened slowly, looking blearily at Luther who was kneeling in front of her, his face concerned and his arms gripping hers. She noticed distantly that he was barely holding her, his fingers alternating between touching her arms and hovering over them, hesitant and close. Her knees were digging into his chest. 

“Yeah, I-- yeah. I’m sorry.” She rasped, noticing that her face was colder as she hurriedly pulled her knees closer to her. She reached up and felt the drying tears on her face and panicked, rushing to wipe them with her sleeve. 

Luther gently grabbed her wrist and handed her a small checkered cloth from his chest pocket, sending her a crooked little half smile at her questioning glance

“One of the landlords that chased me off their steps had this drying on a clothesline. Thought I’d take it as compensation for my bruised shoulder.” She paused, watching Luther try to keep the awkwardness of his face, and found herself chuckling lowly, beneath her breath. He was trying, at least, even though it looked ridiculous.

She accepted the cloth and melted slightly at the warmth of it as she dried her cheeks, thankful again for the warmth that radiated off of Luther's body.

It was quiet for a moment.

“You started glowing a little.” Vanya startled up again, looking at Luther with wide eyes. 

“No, no-- It’s okay, got you to snap out of it quick enough. No one noticed at all. But--” Vanya sighed, leaning back and closing her eyes again, her face twisted up in a grimace.

_Again, she did it again. She couldn't stop, could she? She wouldn't stop, she was useless, useless, dangerous--_

“Vanya?”

She opened her eyes a crack.

“Are you okay?” Luther repeated, his voice was steady and gentle and Vanya let it melt over her. She began to breathe deeply, counting down from ten in her head while Luther waited for her, his own knees still plopped into the snow.

She let herself calm down, her heartbeat still erratic, but slowly resting. She felt her face nose tingle and her eyes sting. 

“No.” It was quiet, and soft, and scared. 

Luther, awkward and stiff and clumsy, reached up slowly-- looking at her, giving her room to move or to run or to hit him, all or none-- and brought his hands on her shoulders and tucked her forwards. Not quite a hug, but something loose and gentle, and Vanya could feel her breath come out in puffs. Her mind was back in the Academy and she couldn’t help but flinch back, scared and tender, instinct overpowering everything else. But, when Luther pulled back, she pulled him closer. 

Because, he was her brother and he was a clueless fucking idiot that thought he knew best. And he was just as fucked up as they were and he was trying, and _fuck_ she needed this. They’d talk about it at some point later and she’d let it all out then. She’d scream and yell and cry, but, not now. Not when everything seemed to be falling apart.

“We’re... we’re going to help you. We--” Luther choked on his words, feeling Vanya reach up to tuck her hands around him. His own eyes began to sting. 

“I’m going to help, Vanya. I swear. I’m going to do better by you, by all of you.” Luther could feel the eyes of people on him, on his back, on his shoulders, and he wanted to hunch forward. Wanted to hide away and fall past his body and sink into the ground, but Vanya wasn’t ready for a tighter hug, and she wasn’t ready to let go either. So he settled, let the stares breathe past him and held his sister. 

“You remember, when we were younger, and Diego dared me to throw him into the air to see if his powers were flight based?” 

“After Dad made us read Icarus for History class?” Her voice was small and drawn thin.

“Yup, that’s the one.” He said with a laugh. 

He could feel Vanya chuckle into his shoulder, and he grinned, rambling on in a whisper about exploit after exploit, about the younger Hargreeves' general lack of self-restraint.

Because Luther still wasn’t the best with the emotions and he probably would make most therapists cry themselves to sleep, but he did know how to please his siblings-- to put them before him. And he would do that, for however long he needed to make things right. 

He’d get better, he would.

“Hey!” The sharp shriek behind them caught their attention, Vanya and Luther both looking up to see a man dash out of any alleyway and knock past a group of people. An older woman fell down and Vanya shot up to run across the street and help her up. Luther could make out a distant _Sorry_ as he jogged up to lend a hand, gathering the cans and groceries that the woman had dropped.

She sent them both a quick thanks, muttering something under her breath that they both distinctly made out as being insulting in Spanish as she walked away. 

Luther snorted, scratching the back of his head as he looked up and saw the night sky. 

“Five’s gonna be pissed.”

“Hmm?” Vanya sounded, quietly, after a moment.

“I said Five’s gonna be pissed that we’re late.” Luther repeated, looking down and noticing that Vanya was not where he had last seen her.

 _“Vanya?_ ” 

“Over here!” Luther’s head shot towards the sound, stumbling as he tried to squeeze into the alleyway to his left, where the man had run out.

His eyes caught sight of a slim, white, card by the garbage bin (the only clean thing on that floor) that had blocked most of the entrance, and he reached for it out of curiosity, finding it hard and feeling it bite into his palm as he pushed himself through the opening and tried to steady himself. He found Vanya standing further into the alleyway. He jogged up to her and slowed down, ready to ask her why she’d wandered in.

“Think this place will do?” She cut him off, eyes glinting and face split into a smile.

Luther’s eyes widened as he looked around the alleyway, mouth open slightly.

The alleyway was closed off, a wide dead end (The back end of a building) on one side and a narrow slit at the other. The trash bins near the entrance made the slit ridiculously small, which was annoying enough for Luther, but definitely came with the benefits of security and a little bit more time to react if need be. 

A rather large archway, boarded up on one side with thick slabs of plywood and covered with peeling movie posters, that must’ve once constituted the entrance to a theatre or hotel, was tucked into the side of the rightmost building, with a slightly collapsed, but long, awning (with only relatively small tears) covering much of the ground and surrounding area from snow and rain. The archway looked large enough to fit most of them, it was tucked on the same side as the trash bin, and the awning seemed stable enough where the collapsed section was leaning against the wall opposite the archway on the left building. The insulation that probably filled the area behind the archway and the small steam pipe that let out air from the opposite building kept the area slightly (keyword, slightly) warmer, keeping much of the cold wind blocked off and allowing what little, detergent scented, warm air there was filter towards the archway. 

It wasn’t perfect by any means. There was a metric ton of garbage, Luther caught movement at the corner of his eyes that might’ve been either a rat or a racoon. And save for the small amount of detergent-infused steam, it smelled godawful. And it would still be a tight fit, and an uncomfortable one at that. 

But, still.

“Holy shit, Vanya.” At his right, he could hear Vanya giggle into her hand, and he wondered if things would start looking up a little more. He reached for his map and circled the street, holding his hand to help Vanya out of the alleyway before they began to run to the park, with three minutes left and their hearts pounding.

From happiness, from anxiety, it didn't matter. Luther could finally breathe.

* * *

“Well, let it not be said that hanging around the office all day doesn’t have it’s perks.” Diego winked, leaning back against the wall as the couple in front of him laughed. Allison, smiling shyly by his side, was giggling into her hand, and whether it was an act or she was genuinely laughing at Diego was beyond him, but it seemed to be working so he couldn’t really bring himself to care. 

“Let me tell you, I have been dying to speak with one of you guys about everything that’s been going on it’s--”

“Oh, Mark-- don’t bore him with that!”

"Aww, come on."

Allison perked up slightly, scooting closer to Diego, asking him for a napkin and using it as an excuse to nudge his foot. He handed her a small tissue and her hand reached into her purse (she’d spotted it outside of a thrift shop and it had looked clean enough), picking up the small notepad-- that they’d managed to buy a week back to help them track their budgets-- and a thin, half-dry, pen. The couple didn’t look into it much, still arguing lightly with one another, so she brought the pad down and crossed her hands across her stomach. She nudged his foot again.

_Ask him to keep talking._

Diego cleared his throat, standing up a bit taller, slipping his face into an inviting smile (sharper at the edges, with the slightest bit of teeth). His fingers fell into his jean pockets, and he raised his shoulders steadily with the motion, looking directly into the older man, Mark’s, eyes. 

“Oh, it’s perfectly fine. I’d be happy to answer your questions.” He said easily, glancing at the man to Mark’s left, taller and softer eyed. His hands, close to his chest, were fiddling with the rings on his fingers and his foot was tapping the ground. Mark’s hand was on his lower back-- the more confident of the two, and even with his wide smile, he occasionally glanced at Nathan. Dimmed only by how nervous his partner was. 

Looking now at Nathan, Diego dropped his hands by his side and began to lean back, speaking all the while “I know you guys must’ve been worried, and all we’re trying to do right now is make sure that you’re all comfortable. There isn’t much I can explicitly divulge for confidentiality’s sake,” He said, shrugging his shoulders apologetically, “but I’d be happy to let you know as much as I can.”

Mark grinned and Nathan smiled a little, shoulders loosening, leaning into Mark’s hand a little.

“Thank you so much, Officer.” Mark said, Nathan nodding by his side.

Diego had bumped into Mark and Nathan while he and Allison were split up, on the beginning stretch of their run through the neighborhood. Nathan was scrambling to pull a drunk man off of Mark, who was curled up on the ground while the man straddled him, landing uncoordinated punches to the sidewalk by his head and, occasionally, his shoulders. Diego had ran into the fray quickly, removing the man from Mark, chasing him down the street to grab the wallet the man had snatched while still on top of him, in true Diego fashion. 

He’d jogged back, finding a nearby shop owner standing by a shaken -up Mark while Nathan hung up from what Diego could only assume (because the purpose of those devices still eluded him) was a police call, handing Mark his wallet and offering his assistance medically. 

The two men had thanked him profusely and had introduced themselves as the owners of a nearby Parlor, sharing that their aggressor had been casing their place for the past week and leaving them ominous threats. The shop owner had stood by, idly complaining about the general ridiculousness and unnecessariness of the situation, while Mark and Nathan kept Diego strung up in conversation. One word had led another and Diego was suddenly off-duty police officer Romero Suarez, chatting with three civilians about the semantics of establishing individualized task forces for small scale crime. 

_“_ Shit, you’d think with all the new superheroes popping up nowadays, we’d have a few people to keep these streets clear of petty criminals.” The shop owner had said before heading off, some odd twenty minutes later, and Diego had been left slightly confused, very overwhelmed with questions, and with two very eager young men with nothing better to do with their Friday nights sill by his side. 

It was then that Allison had showed up and Diego had the sense to excuse himself momentarily before she could be seen by his lively compatriots. He’d kept her around the corner while he explained the situation and the mention of Superheroes (which had thoroughly peaked both of their interests). And they, with no sense of direction for going about obtaining direct information that wasn’t dramatized in magazines and newspapers or heavily placed out of context, had decided that, yeah, they could work with this. And so, five minutes of agonizingly trying to steer the conversation along the edges of the technicalities behind the (absolutely bullshit) division changes in the local Precinct for petty crime, Lisa Francis of the Daily Reporter had rounded the corner and greeted an old friend and his new ones, in the neighborhood looking to write her newest story.

And here they were.

Diego nodded his head and Allison smiled softly, looking at Diego with her notepad raised, as if ready to take his words. 

“If you guys don’t mind,” She interrupted, catching the eyes of the three men, “our next editorial is all about the civilian outlook. So, if you’re okay with it, do you mind if I ask you guys a few questions throughout?” She asked sweetly, her eyes bright and her smile kind. Nathan’s smile dimmed slightly and she added swiftly, “Of course all names and people involved would remain anonymous. We’re really just trying to explore as many perspectives on this situation as we can.” She said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You are all perfectly free to say no.” She said, looking at the two men before turning her eyes to Diego, who took the cue with a grin, “I’d be happy to share my portion of the interview.” He said, looking back at the two men, combing a hand through his hair and waiting quietly while the they thought. 

Allison sent Diego a nod of thanks before turning back patiently as the men spoke to one another.

She looked like the picture of confidence, back straight, eyes lidded, posture relaxed. But Diego, could see her left ear flick slightly, saw how she twisted her finger in her hair, and knew that she was probably just as tense as he was. 

Because, yeah, they were great at bullshitting their way through most things. 

One time, when they were fifteen, Reginald had been particularly bitchy the morning before a planned training session, on account of some upcoming meeting with investors. Diego and Allison hadn’t been all that close then, not by any means. But, Klaus was knocked out in his room (probably hungover, and with Grace in maintenance with Pogo, no one had bothered to wake him up), Ben was in the infirmary (on account of a Flu he caught after his last individual training session), and Vanya had finally annoyed Reginald into letting her practice with a local highschool Orchestra (they were convinced he only let her go because he thought she’d end up proving herself useless in the real world and would come crying back to be his little note taker), so it would only be the two of them against Luther, who also seemed particularly tired, doing something ridiculously devious because Reginald liked to take out his frustrations on them. 

Neither of them were looking forward to it. So, during breakfast, while Reginald angrily scribbled through a few papers, Diego had slid Allison a note, asking her to fake being sick and roll with the flow. Allison had been rightly suspicious, but Diego had nodded his head at Luther, face practically in his bowl, and Reginald, who had a vein viciously pumping across his temple, and she got the idea quick enough. Worst case scenario they’d have to train a few extra hours (at least, that’s what they’d thought), so Allison gave Diego a thumbs up and proceeded to vomit into her napkin. 

Diego was impressed, Luther was horrified, and Reginald was rightly annoyed by the inconvenience. Before Luther, wide eyed and frantic, could speak Diego had exclaimed that it was probably the Flu, because Allison was out in the rain all day yesterday training with him, and _Don't you worry sir,_ he would take her to the infirmary and keep watch of her until Grace got out of maintenance. And Diego, knowing happily that Reginald often gave Luther command of them when he was gone and would need him by his side for the next few hours, took Allison at Reginald's beckon and snuck them up the stairs and out of the house to grab donuts and sneak into a trashy film, returning home in time to catch Klaus and Vanya hanging by Ben in the infirmary and sharing a few of the last donuts with them, if they promised not to speak. Allison, on account of feeling bad for abandoning Luther to Reginald for most of the day, had snuck him a donut (and Diego didn’t bring it up, only because he knew that Luther would never tell on Allison. And he knew that she knew that well enough too.)

It became an on and off pattern with them, but Reginald had found out sooner rather than later, so they never really could pull it off again before they parted ways at the Academy gates. Still, it felt almost natural, falling back into the rhythm of the other’s lies. But, bullshitting about a topic neither of them knew jack shit about? Not even tangentially? 

_Well_ , things were going well so far. Worst case scenario they’d leave two very confused people behind while they ran away. 

But then again, they never really could get the possibility of it right, as evident by the thin scar on Allison’s shoulder from Diego’s knife when they were sixteen and Reginald had finally caught them.

_(“Tie this around your eyes number Two and you best aim well. Or your sister will be the one to pay for your incompetence.”)_

“I mean, I’m okay with it if you are Nate?” Mark said after a minute, and Diego’s eyes snapped to the two of them. Nathan looked back to Allison, “Totally anonymous?” 

Allison nodded, expression sincere, “Totally anonymous, I swear. You can look through my notes after if you’d like to be sure?” 

Nathan smiled and shook his head, “That’s alright.” He took a deep breath and gave her a thumbs up, “I’m fine with the interview.” 

_Well_ , Diego thought, _here goes._

“Alright then, shoot.” Diego began, keeping himself from tensing up.

Mark paused, giving it a second’s thought, before asking, “Well, I guess I really just am curious as to the force’s opinion on the situation as a whole?”Diego could feel his throat dry-out, because _what the fuck was the situation_. Allison’s eyes flicked to him, and she quickly jumped in (Bless her for it), knowing that Diego would only dig himself into a grave with the question. 

“I’m sorry,” She began and their eyes flicked to her, “I just-- I was wondering if you could specify your questions a bit more? I get what you mean, but context may fare a little better in the papers.” Her smile was apologetic and Mark flushed slightly. 

“Oh right, sorry--”

“No, no, don’t be sorry. If anything, I should be apologizing for not letting you know sooner, but it’d really help me out here.” Mark nodded, his cheeks still faintly pink, softly nodding to Allison before turning back to Diego.

“Right, so-- “ Diego trailed off, nodding at him to continue.

“What does the police force think about the Avengers? You guys don’t have all that good of a track record with Vigilantes, but the NYPD has kept quiet on the matter.” Diego let out the breath he’d been holding through his nose. _This, he could work with._ He could hear Allison scribbling something into her notes and he focused on the soft scratching of the pen on paper while he organized his thoughts. 

“Well, you’d be right about noticing the silence from headquarters. Most of us got the order a while back to keep any general statements out of the press--” Diego turned to Allison, an apologetic smile on his face, “Sorry about that by the way, but you won’t be getting any juicy insider details from me.” Allison shook her head, but her smile was slightly dimmer. Nathan, who’d caught the slight shift in her appearance, had interjected softly--”Well, if you can’t get much out of Officer Suarez, hopefully we’ll still be helpful.” Allison had shot him a grin and a quiet thank you, genuine and tinged with relief, and Nathan smiled back a little brighter.

“Anyway, we can’t share any general statements because any skewed opinion could be taken out of context. We don’t want to accidentally influence how the public actually perceives our official response when it comes out.” Diego finished.

Nathan raised his brow slightly, “You guys weren't all that quiet last time though?” He said, before pausing and rushing to add, “With, Spiderman, I mean.” Nathan looked at Allison for confirmation that the question was good, and she sent him a thumbs up.

And-- _what the fuck was a_ Spiderman _._

Diego paused, as if to choose his next words carefully (which, it _was_ technically what he was doing, but Officer Suarez probably wouldn’t be panicking internally right now, so he might as well sell it through and through, inquisitive stance and all.) 

“Well--” He began, “I can only vaguely tell you-- S _orry NDA's and all that_ \-- that the stakes this time around are definitely _very_ different. What with all these different agencies getting tied in, there’s a lot more trouble we could find ourselves in if we said the wrong thing and put any one specific agency in hot water as a result.” 

Nathan nodded, and Diego could practically feel the blood rushing from his toes to his fingers. 

“Well, how about this,” Mark said, thumb and pointer on his chin as he turned to Diego, “Can I ask for your personal opinion on Vigilantism? Totally off the books-- I just can’t imagine what it must be like having to keep these Vigilantes on your radar as potential threats when you might actually be approving of them. Like-- what's it like keeping heroes on a hit list?” 

And there were so many ways he could go with this, but Reginald’s last conversation with him was in the back of his mind and he couldn’t help but blurt out-- “If we’re going off the books, then I have to say that I don’t think I have the right to really make that claim to begin with.” Allison looked up at him curiously, and Diego took a deep breath before continuing. 

“You can call yourself a hero, but if you walk into things knowing that you're motivated by some personal vendetta, or by ego and greed, how heroic are you really? If you’re going into a shitty situation and willingly making it worse, where's the heroism in that?" Mark nodded along, and Diego took it as incentive to continue, biting back against the urge to lose his tongue. He spoke slowly and carefully, "But, then you have heroes that constantly fuck up, time after time, but their heart’s in the right place, right? It’s never intentional on their end, but are they heroic? For throwing themselves into situations where they probably won’t come out on top, where they’re probably risking not only their lives but the lives of others, because they just can’t seem to quit trying to-- fight the good fight? Or do their part, or whatever other bullshit they tell themselves? What really constitutes a hero-- is it name or action or something entirely else?” Diego paused, looking down, as he asked himself the questions-- once, twice, three times.

The silence stretched as they waited for him to continue, and he had to remind himself that Hargeeves wasn’t there. That his cold sneer wasn’t waiting for him to lift his head to speak. To stutter or cry or beg for his father’s forgiveness for thinking himself better than his master, to bow his head and thank him for the reality check. 

Diego bit the inside of his cheek, finding his mouth vaguely bitter. 

By what stretch was Diego supposed to be thankful? For being fucked over by him? Getting his entire identity stripped away from him to become a glorified hero, then losing it again when realizing that never really was one to begin with? 

Diego Hargreeves, not the cop and not the hero, but the reckless Vigilante that doesn’t know if he’s hurting more than he is helping. That’s all Reginald has left him with-- a mistake, a menace to society. 

He’s always done it because he hated seeing people hurt, or scared, or helpless. But he doesn’t quite know if that’s true anymore. If he really _is_ selfish, trying to fill the hole that Reginald had carved into him. Trying to please the man he dedicated most of his adult life to actively defying. Was he a hero only in his head? 

His siblings had grown out of the phase (sans maybe Luther, who probably thought himself a hero while collecting moon rocks for eleven years, but Luther never had any lives in his hands), and Diego had been the only one to remain, despite being the first to leave the Academy. The first to flip off Reginald Hargreeves (Klaus and him had made a bet over who would do it first, but Klaus had been too shocked to be jealous when the time came). The first to look Hargreeves in the eyes and spit at his feet. The first shatter a vase and knife the walls. And the first get the fuck out of those walls and finally feel free.

But, none of that mattered, not according to Reginald. No-- because Diego _wasn’t_ a hero, he was just pretending to be one so he could make his father proud. 

“Truth is, I probably couldn’t give you an answer.” He said, swallowing at the sudden dryness in his throat, “I’ve had a bit of a perspective change recently and, honestly?” He looked up, finding comfort in glancing at Allison for a second, “I used to think of myself as a hero, but a lot of that has changed. A lot of us have had our identities totally re-written. So I couldn’t make the call. I couldn’t walk around calling these Vigilante’s threats, because I didn’t realize how much of a threat I came off as being myself." He paused and looked down, almost ashamed to look Allison in the eyes, "How a lot of my brothers and sisters in uniform came off as being.” His eyes turned back towards Mark and Nathan, leaving Allison’s startled expression, who were staring at him with similarly wide eyes, “And I think these Vigilantes are asking themselves this same question. They may not be thinking of themselves as heroes either. They may be just as confused as I am. And if I could give you any opinion on these Vigilantes? I’d tell you that they’re still human, they've made mistakes and they make the wrong calls, but that doesn’t make them any less or any more heroic. I don’t approve of them but I also don’t think they should stop being who they are, you know? Because they’re in the same boat I'm in. They have to come to terms with what it means to be a hero and I have to do the same before I can confidently start thinking of them as the only threats to public safety around here.” Diego felt his face grow hot, and he snapped out of his little rant to rub the back of his neck and look at everyone sheepishly. 

“Sorry, sorta got out of hand there.” He chuckled awkwardly, but Mark and Nathan were sending him encouraging smiles. "No, no, that was actually a nice reality check. I guess I've never thought about it like that." Mark muttered and Diego noticed that Allison was slightly closer than she was before, and he let himself lean a little bit closer too. Not close enough to raise suspicion, but close enough where he felt a little safer. 

It was quiet for a little longer while Diego’s words slowly simmered down before Allison perked up, turning to Nathan and Mark with a wide smile. 

“Well, we have Officer Suarez’s opinion, strictly as a civilian, of course--” Diego sent her an appreciative smile, “So, I was wondering if I could ask you both to tell me as much as you’d like about the recent affairs with the Avengers and what your opinions of them are.” 

Mark and Nathan glanced at each other for a moment, before turning back to Allison, who’s pen was already at the ready. Diego lent back against the wall and let Reginald filter out of his mind while Nathan began talking. He’d have to worry about that particular facet of himself later. 

For now, the mention of a giant green monster and a flying city had his full attention. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is almost annoyingly long (with very little content or story advancement) and I'm really sorry for having it out so late (midterms actually destroyed both me and my grades), but here it is! I'm not that happy with how it came out, though. 
> 
> It was a struggle to write for some reason and I feel like the characters were out of character, but I'm chalking that bit of it up to the result of their general circumstances for the time being. So, I assure you that they'll be back to their goofy selves soon. I guess I wanted them to let themselves be vulnerable? If it even came off as vulnerability? 
> 
> Anyway, peep the cameos cause in a few chapters there won't be much of a focus on the marvel bunch for a little while.
> 
> Also on that note, please let me know if there's anything you'd like to see happen! This story is still budding and while I do have the general plot down, the actual events are still a little foggy. And please let me know what you think of things so far!
> 
> Thanks for reading this mess!


	3. ashes, ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The radiation spreads before it seeps into their bones.
> 
> Or, the Avengers finally catch wind of something strange that has happened in Northern New Jersey.

“Where’s Rogers?” 

Natasha turned around, face blank except for the soft tick of her brow.

“Hello to you too.” She responded, rolling her eyes when he sent her an enthusiastic wave. She pulled her hair into a ponytail as he walked closer, scrunchy held between her teeth as Carter set up the trace a few feet away from them. 

“Roll your eyes any harder and they’ll fall out of your head.” He replied, ducking away from her slow, thoughtless, jab.

Natasha walked past him and he sighed with his own eye roll, even though no one but Jarvis could see it, following her towards the crater in the ground. It’d be over quick enough anyway. 

“It was probably a meteor. Wasn’t there a shower recently?” He asked idly, flicking his eyes around the greenery and wondering if he could convince Pepper to go camping if she knew there were meteor showers nearby. 

_ “You know I have no time, right? Remind me again who’s running your company for you?”  _

_ “Mmm… some drop-dead gorgeous CEO, I hope.”  _

_ “Of course, because the last one was just plain _ _ hideous.”  _ Tony’s hands had flown up to his chest in a faux declaration of hurt, and Pepper had snorted. 

_ “The answer is still no.” _

_ “ _ _ But why?”  _ He’d whined, pouting up at her as she worked on a stack of paperwork. She’d rolled her eyes, pointedly ignoring another one of his many attempts to gain her attention. But she was smiling.  Really, though, it was only at the edges, barely even a twitch of her lips. But, it made her single dimple deeper, and the crest of her freckled cheeks a little higher, and it made the smallest bit of her teeth break past the deep apricot of her lips, and _ God, he loved her smile. _

_ “Because,”  _ she’d said, finally turning to look at him after he’d assumed a slouch against the chair that had made even her grimace, with a twinkle in her eyes, _ “I know if I take you out there you won’t be able to keep yourself still long enough for it to  _ actually  _ be a camping trip.” _

_ “Oh come on, have a little faith in me Pep.” _

_ “Tony. You hate camping,”  _ She’d deadpanned before her eyes softened and her head tilted. She’d asked, gently, _ “Why the sudden desire for a camping trip?” _

_ “I don’t know,”  _ he’d replied, behind his teeth, after a while _ , “Guess I just wanna be around the people I love a little more. Never know when I’ll get the chance again.” _

She’d smiled, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to his lips, before tucking herself back and reaching for the second stack of documents.

_ “I’ll say yes, but only if you promise not to bring any of your robots.” _ His eyes widened and she’d sent him an all-knowing little smirk.

_ “You wouldn’t--”  _ She hummed and Tony had groaned, flopping back with a roll of his eyes but a soft smile on his lips.

But, then again, Pepper hadn’t been speaking to him as of late. Tony liked to think it was because work was holding her hostage, if only for his peace of mind. Maybe the lovely voice of the masses wouldn’t reach her from behind the stacks of legal work she was probably smothered by. He hoped like hell it wouldn’t, even if it meant a little more time being scolded on his part for gross disregard for personal safety and a monumental amount of broken elevator doors.

Tony crouched by the small hole in the ground and noticed that it was barely a few inches deep, it’s lowest point a consistent three inches below across the board. Agent Carter walked towards Natasha with a tablet, handing it to her with a silent frown. 

Natasha finished tying her hair up and reached for the device. She was back to burnt auburn, noticeably darker and straighter than her signature curly red. Like her hair when they’d first met. She was wearing one of Rogers' sweatshirts, and a pair of pants he could only imagine belonged to Carter. Tony distantly wondered if she’d used Natalie Rushman at all since then. 

Her back was ramrod straight, held tense as if it hurt her, and Tony silently gave Jarvis the command to do a scan of her body. 

“Stare any harder and I might just give you something to look at, Stark.” Tony raised his brows, lifting his mask to send Natasha a bright smile.

“Well, here I was thinking I was the only one interested. All you had to do was ask, Romanoff.” She snorted, and Agent Carter shook her head slowly, exasperatingly brushing her fingers through her scalp. Carter's knuckles were bruised and her lip was busted, still sluggishly bleeding

“You two mind staying here a bit longer?” Carter asked, breaking through Jarvis’s quiet reply that  _ “Agent Romanoff is currently suffering from a Herniated disc and axial pressure built up by her left shoulder. A result of some grating between her clavicle and scapula, it seems. Her ankle is currently fractured and her nose has recently been relocated.”  _

“We got it, Sharon.” Natasha sent Carter a quick nod and a smile and Carter reached up to grasp at her elbow softly, purposefully avoiding her shoulder with a knowing grimace.

“Thanks,” She sighed deeply, wincing as she stretched her body, “I gotta check back with Ren and Stimpy. Let me know if this turns up anything significant.” As she walked away, Tony stood up with a faux wince of his own.

“Did you two take on a pair of boulders or something, Christ. I can’t tell which of you is worse off.”

“It’s debatable,” Natasha replied, eyes still flicking across the screen. Tony shook his head at her, paused to consider something, before shrugging and turning away. He wouldn't be surprised if they walked off bullet wounds. Jarvis could really tell him only so much while outside the tower.

He looked around the small area with a half-hearted disinterest. His eyes stopped on a tree with its branch snapped, whistling low as he noticed the girth of the splintered wood. Something hit it  _ hard _ .

“It looks like a small bomb went off here.” Natasha idly commented as she waited for the readings to come in and Tony hummed in agreement. 

It looked like  _ something  _ went off here. Besides the crater, there were rocks lodged into the surrounding trees, as if flung in them by some violent force. The grass was singed and a few of the weaving branches were left exposed. Their leaves and outer bark was burned off. Tony crouched back down again to trace a faint outline of ash around the ring of the crater, brows furrowing as he looked at the wide trough. It was smooth, or about as close to smooth as something in dry dirt could get. There wasn’t any smaller crater, any debris, any ash coating the inside-- it was bizarrely pristine. 

He placed a metal finger lightly above the center of it, feeling the warmth through the metal before Jarvis had even read back the temperature.  _ Two seventy-nine and steady.  _

But, the crater was empty. Jarvis had estimated that the impact or ignition had occurred roughly a week ago. The radiation burst hadn’t reached their radars until a few hours ago, though. They weren’t sure if it was because it was small enough of an explosion or if the radiation just took longer to spread. 

_ Their communication had gone down for a second a week ago, come to think of it. He’d have to ask Jarvis to pull up the event logs again and cross them with their predicted time of impact. _

There were no crumbled remains, none that any meteor would’ve left if it had passed the three thousand some odd degrees through the thermosphere to hit the ground. No metal or plastic from any bomb he could think of off the top of his head that would’ve been able to make as small of a crater, but still leave the surrounding area singed and vaguely smoking even a week later. Not to mention the force that would’ve been needed to impale the tree trunks as much as the rocks around them did. On a whim, he stood up and walked towards one, noting distantly that Natasha was talking quietly to someone through her earpiece someplace behind him. 

His hand felt around one of the longer rocks.  It was still relatively large enough to make him need both of his hands, but he pulled at it gently until it gave way. The end of it was chipped and flecked with splinters of wood that had made it through the cracks. But it was still smooth. There was no residue or sediment visible across the tip of it, and as his eyes traced the shape of the hole and noticed that it was almost perfectly ovular, he found himself frowning. 

_ So, the rock was totally blunt. Yet, here it was, buried almost completely in a large oak tree. _

His eyes flickered to Natasha and he noticed her expression was harder, her eyes tracing the screen in her hands quickly. 

“Uhh, those readings don’t happen to have any explanation for what caused this, do they?” He asked, placing the rock down and walking back to the crater. She didn't reply, raising a finger in his direction.

“Jarvis, take a few pics of the area, please.” He flipped his mask down again and glanced around, waiting till he could feel a vibration against his thigh, confirming with Jarvis that the images were sent. By then, Natasha had reached down with a plastic bag to gather a small amount of the surrounding dirt, and Tony made to reach for the tablet. She handed it to him, speaking slowly before he’d even gotten the chance to grab it.

“I’ve already called in Rhodey, he’s sending a few more agents to the area and securing the rest of the surrounding region until we get an answer.” Natasha’s eyes flicked up.

"We're keeping things local until we're sure it's nothing major. No one will know what's happening, just yet." Her mouth pulled into a frown as she took in the hard edges of Tony’s expression. His face looked paler, clammy.

“We don’t know if the readings are accurate, Tony.” She continued, softer when Tony’s eyes shut harshly, “Sharon’s already got a few samples from the soil and vegetation within an 80-foot radius of here. But, I’m sending another copy to Jane just to be sure.” She said, slowly standing up and walking closer to him.  She hovered just to his left. 

“I asked Rhodey to set an active search perimeter from Trenton to Danbury. If something’s out there, we’ll get it.” She gently made to place a hand on his suit’s shoulder, allowing herself to reach for the tablet when Tony didn't flinch away. In the quiet, she could distantly make out the hiss of a car crossing the road to their right.

“So,” He said, clearing his throat and walking forward and away from her. Natasha didn’t let the pity communicate on her face, knowing he would only resent her for it. 

“I thought Thor had stashed away somewhere on Asgard.” He said in a vain attempt at casualty.

“As far as we’re concerned, it is.” Tony snorted, but Natasha continued, “This isn’t _it_ , Tony.” He turned to look at her, and she held out the tablet, fingers tracing the numbers just along the sharp waves. “The signature is similar,” She traced the small dotted values behind the glaring familiarity of the graph curves, “but the essence of this thing? It’s totally foreign.” His eyes flicked across the screen again.

“They both share the same wavelength, but these readings are curtailed by some underlying force against each of their nodes. Very close to what I imagine are soundwaves, but longer and a lot more erratic.” She continued, her mouth pulled a little tighter. “We don’t know what it is yet, but we’ll find out soon enough. “ 

Tony sighed, turning away again to look at the trees. His mind unhelpfully flashed back to Pepper, and he cast his eyes down, tracing the edge of his boot as it kicked the ground. The red and green just didn’t work.

“And here I was thinking it couldn’t get any worse.” His voice was a harsh whisper, and even he couldn’t help flinching at the sound of it.

Natasha looped her hand through his suddenly, drawing his attention as she tucked herself against his side. She began walking them away from the crater.

“It won’t get worse.” 

Tony scoffed, ready to spew some sarcastic remark, before Natasha repeated, “We can’t  _ afford  _ to let it get worse.” His mouth went dry. 

“We’re not gonna let it.” 

And might've been the sureness in Natasha’s voice, or maybe the light peeking through the green leaves, or it was the distant hum of approaching jets, but Tony couldn’t help letting himself lie for a minute. _Actually_ believe the fact that they wouldn’t let it get any worse. Not like Sokovia or Oshawa or New York or Afghanistan. Not like every other time they’d tried to keep it from getting worse and only ended up hurting the situation more.

In an effort to keep the conversation at least somewhat going, because the silence was never nice when he couldn’t focus on a device or Jarvis’s reprimands in lieu of some background ambiance, he asked Natasha, “So, you never answered my question.”  Tony grimaced, his voice a lot more forced than he’d hoped it would be.

“About what?” She asked, carefully neutral even though she knew what he’d asked her. 

_ Just keep talking. _

“Rogers.” He began when the two broke out of the forest and onto the road, just as the first of the jets touched down. 

“Why didn’t the Captain come by instead of you?” He said, his tone lighter as Rhodey waved at him from down the road. He waved back with half a smile and a shitload of tension he hoped weren't clear from his distance away.

Natasha snorted. “If you think me and Sharon looked back, you should’ve seen Rogers.” He sent her a look, and she rolled her eyes fondly. 

“Thought he could take the weight of a falling mountainside.” 

“Ah.” He replied, eyes glazed and face split into a smirk. “Let me guess, Wilson--”

“Moping by his side? You bet.” 

Tony snorted, “He’ll learn.” 

Natasha nodded, humming softly in agreement. “Rogers’ one tough nut to crack.”

He watched as Rhodey flagged down three other jets and began to head their way. The cold of the air made his nose numb and his breath cold. His chest felt vaguely tight. 

He tried to breathe deep, count from some arbitrary number down to zero,  close his eyes, ground himself in the cold. He found that the only thing on his mind was the bitter thought that he wished his body was even half as tough as Rogers’ was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short, dummy, interlude chapter that I have not edited yet because school is ~evil~ but have posted anyway because I realized that I haven't updated in a while. Sorry about the quality of the writing and the character portrayal so far, but I'm getting there :)


	4. splashing in puddles while the world comes crashing down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They call them the Avengers,” The mood sobered as the sound of Five rifling through the notepad filled the background of Diego’s explanation, ”those superheroes, I mean. They’re like us in our time or, world I guess, but gutsier and with bigger fish on their plates.” Diego paused, “Well, sans multiple apocalypses, but that’s beside the point.”
> 
> or; revelations are made, puddles are splashed, and a Rubik's cube needs to get it's act together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been forever, but I blame school entirely for that (also maybe the fact that I'm reeling over a certain love confession that occurred recently on TV but, I digress). Which-- I probably should've studied for my exams instead of writing this chapter, but I felt bad for leaving this story in the air (P/D/F is my lifeline atm and I'm just hoping grad school doesn't decide to assume I just failed those classes). But, anyway, here you go! 
> 
> This isn't formatted yet (I'll probably come back to this to make the chapter look prettier), I'm missing one too many italicized words and probably have a bunch of spelling mistakes, also the plot has been slower than my updates lately, but I hope you guys like it anyway :D
> 
> I haven't gotten to replying to comments yet, but they really do make my day so incredibly much, so please leave any suggestions of things you want to see, maybe some predictions, or just general curiosities in the comments! And let me know what you think :)
> 
> Anywho, Enjoy!

  
“So.” Klaus exclaimed, clapping his hands together, both for the emphasis and for the momentary warmth it brought him, “What else did we learn today?” Everyone was silent, wide-eyed, and processing the information Five had just relayed.

True to his word, he’d only scoped out the Stark-- or Avengers-- tower building from the deck of a nearby penthouse. It had been a fruitless half-hour of trying to make out blurs in the tinted windows who weren’t just office workers, with nothing to aid him visually. As much as he hated those missions growing up, Reginald had been no amateur when it came to their tools, and they always walked in with enough supplies to keep them secure twice over. He was a dry old bastard, but he was good at what he did. 

Thankfully the Commission had been good at what they did too, useful enough when training him (Five remembers being in the dark for weeks, fighting against hands and blades and bullets he couldn’t see, his neck just as on the line as the rest of the sorry saps stuck in that training facility with him) so it only became an inconvenience when window glare also decided to join the stakeout. Resisting the urge to just jump in and deal with the consequences as they came, Five had settled for studying the people that had been on the open porch a few stories below him. 

They were small, but he could vaguely make out a pop of strawberry red pushing off a banister, a towering figure to their right, heads ducked in what he suspects is a quiet conversation, before they vanished into the tower again a minute or two later. With a groan of frustration, he’d reached for the bowl of grapes he’d impulsively snatched while searching the penthouse for residents, and munched away at a handful. He’d still had jack squat.

With about twenty minutes left on his clock (or what he surmised via the aforementioned sun growing increasingly annoying as it glared off the glass, was roughly twenty minutes till it hit dusk) he’d been a minute away from jumping away. 

He’d still had one more place to visit, and if he didn’t space out his window of time well, it’d close on him and leave him with no progress and nothing to show for his portion of the plan. As fate would have it, though, he would have more fruit for his labor than he was anticipating. 

And thank fuck for it, because he’d run out of grapes at some point in the last five-minute stretch.

“Just, to clarify.” Luther had muttered slowly, “Two robots flew into this building, or tower, or whatever. And they were followed by uh-- what?” Five cleared his throat and calmly repeated “Something wearing a suit with webbed markings, I believe, swinging from the buildings with some type of rope of self-forming fibrous adhesive.” Luther made to bring his hands together, wrapped around the air like they would a vine, and looked at Five with wide eyes, “Swinging like this?” making the motion back and forth. Five nodded slowly. 

“Yes, Luther. Swinging like that.”

“And,” Vanya began, sending Five an apologetic glance, “someone else with red-- beams,” She looked to him for confirmation, to which he nodded, before continuing, “shooting out of their hands, who was flying, too?” 

Five nodded again, looking slightly more irate as the conversation continued. 

“Yes. That’s what I saw.”

“I mean,” Klaus began, breaking the silence,” the robot doesn't seem all that shocking. We have mom, right?” Klaus said lazily, legs perched in Diego’s lap, whose own eyes were far away.

“Yeah, but, mom can’t fly,” Luther said, brows furrowed, and Klaus shrugged his shoulders in turn. “Reggie did like to keep his secrets though. For all we know, mom might’ve been packing little rocket launchers in her shoulders or something and we just had no idea.” He said, working through the Rubik's cube that Diego had fished out of the dumpster for him. 

Diego hummed slightly, a sound of approval. “Mom’s a badass.” Allison grimaced and Klaus sent her a look and a quick shake of his head. Don’t remind him, he quietly pleaded. Allison frowned and looked at her hands.

Five rolled his eyes at Diego, eyes resolutely held away from Allison and Klaus, his groans of frustration laying on deaf ears. 

Vanya had looked to be considering it, sitting cross-legged opposite Five, to Klaus’s left. “I mean, for all we know, this place may just have found a way to advance the technology we already had.” She said, shrugging.

“Yeah, come to think of it,” Klaus muttered, sitting up slightly, “ those planes or whatever that we saw? They could’ve just be an upgrade from daddy dearest’s lovely uh---” Klaus paused, snapping his fingers,”...what the fuck was that thing called? The weird elevator looking thing--” Klaus scratched his chin, absently noting that his facial hair was growing too out of control for his taste. 

Allison straightened up where she was leaning against Vanya’s left, and asked, “Yeah, the-- uh, it… didn’t he have a miniature version of it in his office? Covered up with a cloth-like we couldn’t see it?” 

“The-- the aero--nator?” Luther asked, unsure. Diego pointed up at Luther with a nod to his head. “Think Spaceboy’s got it on the nose there.”

Five rolled his eyes again, “The levitator, you mean?” He said exasperatedly, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall opposite them. He was the only one standing, and Klaus couldn’t tell if it was because he was jittery or if he just liked looking down at them. It almost made him wonder how much of his greater than thou attitude was still lingering in his little body. Probably like sixty-four percent. 

Diego sent Five a look, and Klaus snorted softly, knowing he was thinking the same thing he was. But then again, if Klaus had suddenly become atleast a foot shorter than he normally was, he’d want to feel taller than everyone else once in a while, so he couldn’t really fault him. Still, the slight tug of smugness at the edges of his pursed lips and those raised brows? Toeing the edge there, Five. Klaus had to keep himself from turning to his right and saying as much to the air to Diego’s left.

Regarding the Levitator, though-- well Reginald wasn’t really known for sharing many of his personal projects. But that thing had been the exception. It was one of his lifelong projects, according to Pogo. “It's older than me, even.” He’d joked to them once. They didn’t actually know how old Pogo was then, but he had a cane and he wore glasses so they just assumed that he was as old as Reggie.

They all remembered the Levitator. Or, in theory, at least, because terrible aliases and names were really dad’s thing, huh?. He'd sat them down after one of their training sessions when they were about eight and utterly spent, and had spoken of the absolute importance of integrating such a device into society. He’d explored it’s ins and outs at obscene lengths while they were, most definitely, not paying much attention and struggling to keep their eyes open .

He’d tap the chalkboard with his cane every few minutes to keep them alert, even though Diego had given up hiding it and had napped on his desk about half-way through, accepting the occasional cane’s swats to his back. Reginald had stood by an immaculate chalk sketch of the device, swatting the board when he pointed to something and kicking up a cloud of yellow dust that would settle on his overcoat with each tap. Pogo had hovered to the side with a small model of the device and would occasionally point to some piece or other, or hand over documents and new pieces of chalk to Reginald whenever he ran out. Dad had claimed, in between technical spiels and historical interludes, that the Levitator would change the very way the world interacted within itself. Shrinking the distance between countries permanently all whilst only drawing the same amount of energy as the average kitchen light bulb. 

It would be, in his words, “absolutely integral to altering the course of pre-determined fate and ending the inevitable apocalypse” (or was that another device? Klaus couldn’t remember, but they were both in the same vein anyway) 

At that thought, Klaus mulled over the reminder that, for being such a fan of the “end” that he was preparing them for, Reginald was such a paranoid man. If the Levitator, or whatever, could’ve helped them, why lock it away somewhere secretive and die with the key? Slimy fucker probably didn’t think he’d have to kick the bucket that soon. 

Klaus shook his head, failing this time to keep himself from turning to his right. Diego had sent him a shared look of disbelief, though, and Klaus collapsed onto the notion that they were both bagging on Five, and he sent him an “I know right?” eye roll. Keeping his eyes carefully on Diego. 

The Levitator, though, much like everything else touched by Reginald’s cold bony hands, didn’t much see the light of success. They never were quite sure why. As far as they’d known the thing had worked. But, for whatever reason, the last time they’d ever heard mention of it was a week afterward, while Grace covered the model pogo had been holding with a thin cloth in Regoniald’s office. 

“Oh, your father has just decided to look into a different project! There’s no need to worry about this one, children.” Her smile had still been plastic then, sharper than it needed to be, but they hardly ever got smiles anyway. They’d ignored the thing thereafter.

“Yes! That thing!” Klaus pointed at Five, leaning back with a small smile like he’d just answered their most prying question and as if Five hadn’t. Luther looked at him for a moment, before shrugging, adjusting his feet where he was crouched. He shook his boot to get the grimy water from the bottle off of it, prompting Diego to flinch back and swing his hands at him.

“Well,” Vanya continued, watching as the two of them began to shake the water off their shoes in each other’s directions. Klaus snorted. They shared a single brain cell between them anyway. Although to be fair, he’d shared a brain cell with Ben, so he wasn’t really any better being half as smart. They didn’t need to know that though. He turned his focus back on his Rubik’s cube because there was only one row left, c’mon. If the block was missing he dubbed it green or blue depending on the other cubes. Probably would’ve been better to have chosen more colors given that only about a fourth of the Rubik's cube still actually had color.

“I guess our main concern is with the other two, right?” Vanya bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth. “I mean, who could it have been? I don’t know of anything in our time period that could do that. Are they…. Do you think they’re more of us?” She asked, much more hesitant. Her shoulders were hunched and her eyes downturned, an expression they couldn’t quite decipher beyond fucking terrified flashing across her features (and yeah, the Commission (or heavens forbid Reginald) getting their hands on more of them wasn’t a comforting thought. Reginald, especially, considering what he’d been unafraid to pull on Vanya.) 

She suddenly looked far more like the Vanya that they’d known most of their lives. Timid, afraid of her own shadow shoving a knife into her back. 

Allison grimaced, her eyes flicking across Vanya’s face.

“No, no.” She said, shaking her head, “they’re not more of us.” Vanya looked up at her and Allison sent her a warm smile and a confirming nod. 

She didn’t look any more comforted, but at least she wasn’t trying to make herself look smaller as she looked at Allison with wide eyes.

At that, Five’s head shot to her expectantly. “You got information?”

“Yup,” Diego said suddenly, popping the P, his left side as drenched as Luther’s right. “Guess, they weren’t bullshiting us, huh?” His tone had been dry, just bordering on incredulous, as he looked up to Allison. Both of them looked more ashen than the rest of them. 

“Seems so.” She said, her hand resting on her chin.

“Oh, what the fuck.” Klaus said, although he’d been referring to the Rubik's cube because the thing just wasn’t working with him.

Allison hummed in agreement anyway, caught up in her own thoughts.

Five’s left eye started to twitch when the silence continued to stretch, “Who wasn’t bullshiting you and what weren’t they bullshiting you about?” Five asked quickly, knocking the glaze out of Allison’s eyes.

“We were talking with these two guys, and they were going on about these superheroes or vigilantes that, I guess have been around for a while? Maybe three or four years, but I honestly couldn’t give you an accurate guess.” Allison huffed, twisting a stray piece of hair around the base of her bun. “They didn’t go in super deep, so we had to fill in the blanks ourselves. Half the time, though, we thought maybe they were exaggerating or,” She paused, biting her lip, “were maybe talking about some more of the forty-three of us. Or, you know, us.” 

“Like counterparts type of deal.” Diego clarified. They all had looked at him strangely, either out of shock or more confusion, before Allison continued. “But, the ages didn’t match up so we didn’t know what to think.” She said, reaching for Vanya’s hand subconsciously. Vanya looked at her in confusion, but gripped back nonetheless, squeezing slightly when Allison’s eyes grew glossy. “Guess, this isn’t our timeline then.” She finished with a tight voice. Klaus put his cube down and reached over Vanya’s lap to catch a tear off of Allison’s cheek, cradling it for a moment until she looked at him. “Doesn’t mean we’re gonna be stuck here sis.’ He sent her a smile, pulling his hand away just enough to fling his arms in the air, tattoos facing forward. “Think of this as a considerably more rustic vacation. Those LA parties got nothing on the rave going on every night between Florence and her many beaus back there.” Klaus stuck a thumb back towards the trash cans with a bright smile. Diego snorted. “You named the rats?” Klaus rolled his eyes, looking at Diego in exasperation. “It’d be rude not to.” Vanya shook her head with a smile and Allison chuckled. She bit her lip and quickly reached into her purse to pull out her little notepad, handing it to Five before her mind began to wander more. Diego, taking the cue, continued, sending Klaus a final shake of his head and ignoring his pout.

“They call them the Avengers,” The mood sobered as the sound of Five rifling through the notepad filled the background of Diego’s explanation, ”those superheroes, I mean. They’re like us in our time or, world I guess, but gutsier and with bigger fish on their plates.” Diego paused, “Well, sans multiple apocalypses, but that’s beside the point.”

“They’re rogue?” Five asked, flipping through the notes, his brows steadily rising with each line he parsed through. 

  
“Yeah, recently.” Diego held his hand out to Allison, who handed him a newspaper cover she’d found in a nearly empty news case, that she’d folded in her purse. He passed the image to Klaus, who held it out and between himself, Vanya, and Luther. “There’s been some fallout on account of their recent status as free entities and there's been talk of having them put under government sanction, but it’s all very up in the air.” 

The cover consisted of a collage of blurry snapshots of different people, in the heat of some mission or battle. The title read “The Fall of Sokovia and the Avengers Initiative,” in blocky text. A few of the snapshots and their subjects were distinguishable immediately by the otherworldly power that seemed to radiate from them-- from glowing hands to ancient, nordic, armor-- or the agility of the form they’d been caught in-- blurs of arms and hair and guns. And one was even a--

“What the fuck is that?!” Vanya had exclaimed sharply, surprising Luther and Allison-- and eliciting a grin from Klaus-- far more than it probably ought to have, cause she was a grown-ass woman and her sudden language shift was the least of their worries, And it was certainly not as surprising as the still of a hunched figure. A huge, nay enormous, hunched figure-- something that made Luther look like Klaus before he shot up when he was twelve in comparison--- in one of the images. The small text below it reading, “The Hulk.” 

“The main group is made up of, and I kid you not:” Diego reached over to point at the images as he spoke, “One science experiment gone horribly wrong,” only Allison noticed Luther frowning sharply,” one Alien fucking God, a bunch of spies, whatever the hell a Supersoldier is, some newcomers that people are calling mutants, and one--” 

“Anthony Edward Stark,” Five said, looking up from the notepad with tightly pursed lips, “Iron Man.” 

“Yup, one of the robots they have here. Might be the dude in the robot suit you saw at the tower.” Diego confirmed.

“One of the robots?” Luther breathed faintly while Allison started to speak.

“Apparently the, uh, Hulk,” she began” has been missing for a few months now, and the alien,” 

“Dude, holy shit aliens actually exist here--” Klaus exclaimed, looking towards the sky. Like he could see them flying by in little saucers.

“Evidently,” Allison said, tapping his head down, smiling softly at the pout he made. Some things didn’t change, and she couldn’t be happier about it than she was now. The normalcy was a craving for all of them at this point.

“His name is Thor.”

“Like the Norse god?” Vanya asked, tracing the edges of a billowing cape and a tear of lightning behind it in the image of the man in nordic armor. His face was the only one they could make out, and it looked like what he thought thunder sounded like. Angry, roaring, sharp.

“Yeah, the guy’s back on his home planet or something.” Diego looked away for a second, “Ass something or other, I don’t remember.” Allison snorted, “Asgard.” Diego snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “Yeah, that. Anyway, a few of the spies have been totally incognito since this Sokovia event, and the newer recruits have only been spotted in New York a handful of times.” Diego said, pointing to a woman with wild hair flying in the sky, and a dark figure, obscured by the black ink, with only a thin white beam from their forehead to define them. 

“The woman,” Allison began, “you think she’s the one you saw today?”

“It would appear so.” Five said, eyes tracing the beams in her hands, breathing through his nose and pushing his fingers through his hair.

“There’s the super-soldier, Captain America,” 

“These aliases are terrible, can I please just say that--”

“Says the Seance.” Luther countered.

“Hey, it makes me sound hot and mysterious, Spaceboy.”

“Nothing hotter than a summoning ritual.” Diego snorted, ducking away from Klaus’s swatting hands.

“Well, depending on who we’re summoning I argue it can get quite hot.” Luther looked at him in confusion and Diego quirked his brows curiously. 

“There is no way you’re summoning any type of sexy old dead person.”

Klaus snorted, sending them a small smirk “Who said anything about ghosts? Let me tell you, Satan is more than just surrounded-by-fire hot. He’s built like a fucking greek god--”

“Wait what?”

“How do--”

“Back on topic people!” Five exclaimed, and the three other men shut up, although now they were all shooting, a perfectly content, Klaus weird glances.

Diego cleared his throat once, shaking his head before continuing,“The supersoldier hasn’t been making many uninformed public appearances lately, but there's this sort of commonplace rumor that he’s probably training these new recruits. Since he’s their leader, I think?” He said, leaning back on the balls of his feet.

“Which leaves Tony Stark,” Five began, placing the notepad down. It was flipped to Allison’s underlined comment ‘genius engineer and mathematician.’ 

“The most public of the group. He’s the only one-- other than maybe Thor but the logistics of that are eh-- whose identity can be confirmed for absolute certainty.” Diego nodded, idly pointing to the suited man in the image, even though the name was there for them all to see.

“And he, evidently, has one of the most advanced clean energy facilities in the world,” Allison said, recalling Nathan’s small geek breakdown as he rambled on about Stark industries. “He was also a weapons dealer a few years back.”

Klaus groaned. “Which means we might need to worry about another eccentric billionaire asshole with a penchant for destruction” Klaus muttered, tilting his head back with a sigh, his arm covering his eyes. “This is great, what an amazing vacation.”

“Which means,” Five repeated, looking at the notepad and flicking his eyes briefly to the furthest section of the alleyway, where the briefcase was hidden, “he may prove valuable in the future.” Diego looked at him in confusion.

“What about your contact?” 

Five shrugged, suddenly looking downcast

“He wasn’t where I thought he’d be. I don’t think--” He paused, pushing his hands into his pockets, “I don’t think he’s gonna be of much help, even if he does exist here, and the probability of that is down to about twelve now.” 

It was quiet while the news settled between them. 

“So that’s where you went then? Where you were planning on going from the start?” Klaus asked, and Five nodded his head.

“What happened to we’re in no condition.” Diego spits out, voice familiarly bitter, earning him a glare from Five. 

“We are in no condition. I was our best bet. He would’ve known me and I could’ve gotten out of there quick enough if need be.”

“Five, no offense, you don’t exactly look all peaches and cream to me,” Diego said, eyebrows still downturned and shoulders stiff where he was crossing his hands, but his expression was sincere. 

“You think I don’t know that?” It was said sharply, and Diego glared back at Five, a retort ready to roll off his tongue. 

“I’m probably operating at thirty-seven percent capacity right now, but forty percent easily beats your twenty and ten and thirteen percents, alright.” Five huffed, pushing off against the wall to pace a bit.

“Five, we know that you meant well, but you have to tell us this stuff before you go ahead and do it.” Allison said, mouth pursed and arms crossed. Five paused slightly, facing away from them.

“Allison’s right, Five,” Luther said, to which Five snorted, shaking his head. Luther could feel his jaw tick and his fists tighten, but he kept them nestled in the small part behind his knees and continued. “Look, if we all went to get out of this mess alive, we need to let each other know where we’re going and what we’re doing there. This isn’t about who’s better equipped than who, this about us cooperating as a tea--” Luther paused,”as siblings.”

“Luther’s got a point,” Diego added, accepting the small nod from Luther with one of his own, “This place is foreign to us, and as far as I’m concerned, there is a metric fuck ton more going on here than there was back home. This isn’t just some mission where dad’s already given us the case file and the equipment, with mom and Pogo on standby. This is us trying to survive walking backward, blindfolded, through a minefield. We need to survive this together.”

“And to do that,” Allison jumped in, “we need to communicate with each other. The stoic and anger-fueled silences were the reason we got into most of these messes to begin with.” She pulled her hands apart, raising them around her for emphasis. Klaus raised his own hand to point towards her in agreement, keeping his eyes on his cube all the while.

“You know my take on it, Fivey.” He said quietly, and even though his siblings shot him questioning glances, Five’s shoulders slouched a bit.

“We’re all we have now,” Vanya interjected softly, twisting her head to catch Five’s eyes,” Please, No more secrets.” Her voice was gentle, and they could all feel when the tension rose to a peak and broke. 

At that Five turned back to them, looked at them all huddled by one another, various shades of seriousness and sincerity painting their faces, and sighed. He had no choice, then. They were right, as much as he hated the thought of it.

  
“My contact was an ex-commissions field agent. Ario. That’s all I knew him by.” He began, hands brought behind his back as he turned to face his expectant siblings fully. 

“We were partners for my first few missions, he was a veteran agent at that point and he was, showing me the ropes, you could say.” He said, a small, almost wistful smile on his face. 

“But, we ended up becoming-- friends and met up together whenever we could anyway. He was a genius and the smoothest man I know to date. He could walk in and out of just about any situation with perfectly gelled hair and not a scratch on him. He could talk himself out of any argument, make people speak themselves backward, and deliver their deepest secrets right into the palm of his hand.” Five chuckled lowly, bitterly. Klaus finally had the sense to put his cube down and tune in. Because Five hardly talked this much. Hardly ever seemed to get emotional beyond being resolutely angry and disappointed. 

“He had a bravado to him that not many, sans me, could match.” Diego rolled his eyes at that because of course, Five would still gloat, but Five kept his eyes forward, slightly dimmed. 

“That’s because he was the one who taught me. Everything I know.” Diego frowned and looked down slightly, awkwardly casting his face away. 

Five could feel his throat sting and he angrily swallowed down the feeling. Ario didn’t just teach him everything he knew about fighting, surviving. He taught him everything he knew about living. He was never raised, not really. Reginald wasn’t a nurturer, and Ario couldn’t really be categorized as one either. But, he was as close to one as Five would ever get, 

Five’s first time celebrating a birthday in almost forty years was at Ario's urging, with him and Delores by his side. It was 1945, the skies were clear, and they sat on a little grassy hilltop in Northern Ireland. He has a picture, somewhere, taken on an old camera, of the three of them there. All old and smiley and like something he hasn’t been in years. He’s not sure if it’s in 2019 or 1963, buried somewhere under rubble or obliterated with the rest of the world, but he knows it well enough to picture it in his mind anyway. 

“He taught me how to slit throats and sip martinis at the same time. How to pick my way out of a car flung thirty feet into the air and land safely on the edge of a bridge. How to walk a tightrope while carrying bodies on my back. How to jump continents in the time it took a man to take a sip of water. How to smile with just enough teeth and snap a neck with just enough fingers. How to be the perfect killer.” The atmosphere was quiet, heavy. Five looked pained, and Allison had half a mind to reach over and curl him into her side, but it was Diego that had shaken his head, 

Not now, not yet. He’s too far in. 

“He wasn’t all that much of a fighter, believe it or not. He didn’t use a gun. He was a…. personal kind of agent, intimate almost-- apologetic, with his victims. The Commission wasn’t very happy about it, but he never screwed up the timeline and he never got caught, so they decided not to risk losing a star agent by addressing it. He used this thin needle, about as thin as a human pore but as strong as carbon steel. Never told me where he got it from, but he said it knew him longer than even the Commission did, and he’s been an agent since the Commission was founded. He never had a pension for blood, and his needle kept him clean of it most of the time, but he told me once that he used to be a painter. And sometimes seeing any amount of that red, if it was ever drawn, gave him the urge to paint his victim’s-- portrait, I guess. He would draw them a sketch or leave them a small painting of their faces as they went out. Usually they were peaceful, and he said they looked like Angels that were asleep and thus needed to be immortalized. Something about existing beyond this mortal coil, of being in more than just the sense of a heartbeat. He kept the drawings hidden away enough that the commission never found them, at first, but someone always would after they left. He made a name for himself, both in the Commission and in the real world. It eventually became too much for the agency’s secrecy and they booted him, although like to say that he “retired.” I only found out when I found a sketch he’d left me, of a highrise and the new york skyline. That was the last time I’d ever heard from him.” He finished with a quick sigh, finally coming to sit down in the space between Luther and Allison. 

“He was as much of a legend as Hazel and Chacha were, and I was his protege. The next big commission legend. The deadliest weapon, molded by the great Ario himself.” He looked up at them, face braced for something, although he couldn’t quite tell you what. It was quiet, and Allison had to dot away tears in the corners of her eyes before anyone noticed. They never really did get the chance to live long with five, but they only spent about eighteen years together anyway, and Five was there for thirteen of them. But, they could tell you just about everything about one another’s sad, miserable, lives. They knew each other tangentially, even if they hadn’t seen each other since they’d left the Academy. They couldn’t tell you a thing about Five’s life, though. And there was always something heartbreaking about looking at the Five that they knew for most of their lives, and hearing the story of a man four times his age, with four times the amount of red buried in his ledger, and four times as many secrets.

“And, Ario,” Vanya began hesitantly in the quiet that had grown, “he would’ve helped you if you’d asked?” 

Five took a moment, considering the question, giving all of them pause. He hadn’t considered it fully before, then.

“Yes.” He said after a minute, looking up at them with confident eyes, “he would have.”

“In any timeline? In any reality?” Luther prompted, slightly incredulously.

“Yes.” This time, Five’s response was instantaneous. “In any reality.”  
Vanya reached over, laying a tentative hand on Five’s knee, with a small smile.

“Thank you for telling us.” She said, leaning back when Five sent her a nod and a quirked, half-smile, of his own. 

“And we’ll find him, if he’s here, right guys?” Allison promised, looking around at her siblings with narrowed eyes when they didn’t respond.

“Right?” She bit out, and Luther began to choke on air as he rushed to agree. Diego grumbled something under his breath but agreed regardless. Klaus, who’d gone back to his Rubik’s cube, grinned at them and sent Allison and Five two thumbs up, kicking his legs off Diego’s lap to sit up.

“Of course we will. It’s probably the best plan we’ve got now anyway,” Diego sent Klaus a betrayed look, to which Klaus shrugged and quickly ducked away from the incoming smack of Diego’s hands.

Five chuckled lowly as Luther tugged Diego back by his waist, flinging him accidentally into the puddle of water by his feet and managing to soak both him, Luther, and Klaus in one go.

Allison shook her head, laughing, and Vanya broke out into a bright smile, her eyes flitting between her siblings. The only sounds they could hear for a while were laughter, splashes, and sudden shrieks whenever one of them got wet. It was a moment of levity, and Five looked content just to watch his siblings be siblings.

“Uh,” Diego broke in, catching his breath and grinning at a dripping wet Luther, keeping his own damp arm in the air and away from the water Klaus had started to splash onto Luther again. He pulled his sleeve down to reveal what looked like a slightly smudged telephone number on his arm, scribbled in with a marker. 

“They gave me their, um-- cellphone-- number. The two guys we talked to. So we can ask them some more questions later, I think? About the Avengers. They might have heard about this Ario guy, too. Or, you know, some mysterious rich heartthrob that lives in a New York skyrise with millions under his belt. Either or.” It was more of a question than a statement really. At that, Five curiously arched his brow and dashed to the back of the alley, returning with the pack of washable markers that Klaus had found him. 

“Cell phone number?” Luther asked, looking at the numbers oddly, “What’s a cellphone?” 

Klaus clapped his hands together again, drawing everyone but Five's attention (he was off in his little corner, writing something on a piece of throwaway cardboard with the notepad still in hand. There were new variables to consider, new possibilities and branches, and new plans to be made.)

“Boy do I have some more news for you.” Klaus began with a sharp grin.


End file.
